


Summer Camp 2012

by bukkunkun



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: 2012 Summer Olympics, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Assassins, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - Mermaid, Alternate Universe - Waiters, Blindness, Cannibalism, Captain America AU, Dreams, First Kiss, First Time, Holy shit there's too many people to put in here seriously, Kid Fic, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Medical, Priests, Science, too many tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-08-06
Packaged: 2017-11-11 13:31:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 56,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/479054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bukkunkun/pseuds/bukkunkun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Compilation of all my 2012 USUK Summer Camp entries. Summaries for each can be found at the start of every chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Spirit of Adventure

**Author's Note:**

> GENRE: Romance, Fluff  
> RATING: G, SO G IT HURTS  
> WARNINGS: Familial neglect and mass of fluff  
> PAIRING/S: USUK, Alfred/Arthur(America/England)
> 
>  
> 
> Alfred and Arthur are sweet little kids that fall in love during summer in a sunny blue-sky day in a wheat field.

Alfred doesn’t notice him, at first.

He was doing what he always does—running circles around Matthew for God knows how many times, laughing and smiling brightly, summer-sky blue eyes sparkling bright with happiness as he dashes past the tire-swing hanging off the big old oak tree standing proud and tall behind their country home, doing one, two, three cartwheels before pulling golden strands of summer-yellow wheat, as he turned around, spinning near the hedge of their wheat plantation. He had trapped several leaves of the crop around his slightly pudgy fingers, but his grin widened as he saw his hand curled around his intended prize—the stem that led up to the grains that were held together beautifully, like he had always loved it. He spun, and spun, and spun, hearing Matthew call out from behind him, but he paid his cousin no heed—he was having too much fun, relishing in his own little adventure out in the countryside—and suddenly the sight of a silhouette sitting down amongst the tall stems of wheat flashed past his vision. His heart stopped for a moment, shock taking over him as he thought of the worst—a burglar? A kidnapper? A murderer? He skidded to a halt, tripping over his dirty bare feet and falling to the grassy earth in alarm, his glasses falling askew as his nose connected with the soft earth.

Spluttering in surprise, he sat up—to find himself staring into a pair of the most vivid shades of green he had ever seen—and he had been to thousands of places before, yes he has! From forests, to beaches, to mountains, and to castles in far-off lands; when he was going on adventures with his best friend and cousin Matthew, and yet, there they were, the most beautiful shade of green he had ever seen, the grass most likely folded and wrinkled underneath him paling in comparison to the ones his were boring into in wide-eyed curious wonder.

Alfred blinked. The silhouette he was staring at was _far_ from what he was assuming it would be.

Staring back at him was a sandy blonde-haired, thin, pale boy, lips parted in shock, a hand half-covering it, brilliant thick eyebrows raised in alarm, and his _eyes_ , the boy’s beautiful, beautiful eyes, were wide with surprise.

“Alfred!” Matthew’s voice pulled him out of his reverie, the red-faced, out-of-breath little boy jogging up to him, his hands falling to his knees as he caught his breath. Alfred turned his head again to meet the warm yet piercing gaze of the strange boy, who had calmed down and was now just watching him, hands folded neatly on his lap as he sat back on his heels.

“… Hi.” Alfred spoke up, surprising Matthew, who apparently hadn’t noticed the newcomer. “I’m Alfred.” He smiled, holding out his hand for the boy to shake.

The boy said nothing, merely staying silent, not taking Alfred’s hand. Frowning slightly, Alfred thrust his hand closer to the boy, insistent that he shook it. “Come on.” He said, “My daddy said it’s polite to shake other people’s hands.”

The boy silently took Alfred’s hand and gingerly shook it. The blue-eyed boy’s eyes widened at how cold it was. The boy let go, like Alfred’s touch had burned, pulling his hand close to himself, the hint of pink painting his cheeks.

“Well, this is my cousin Matthew.” He said, gesturing vaguely at Matthew standing behind him, who waved at the boy weakly, offering him a small smile. “Do you want to play with us?”

The boy’s eyes widened and his mouth hung open.

“… May I?” he asked, his voice with a very polished British accent. Strangely, Alfred found himself drawn to the soft sound of the boy’s voice, and he nodded.

“’Course!” Alfred grinned brightly, abruptly taking the boy’s hands in his (delighting in the fact that warmth was now seeping into the boy’s hands) and stood up, pulling the boy up to his feet as well. “Going on an adventure is much more fun when there are other people around!”

“A-an adventure?” the boy echoed, and Matthew nodded, walking nearer to him.

“It’ll be fun.” He assured, “Al has the best ideas for adventures ever.” He smiled, and the boy turned his eyes to look at Alfred. At full height, Alfred realised he was taller than the boy was, around three inches, at least, and his eyes widened when he realised what he was wearing.

“Eww, really?” he laughed, “Why are you wearing a polo and dress shorts outside like this?” Alfred clapped the boy on the back. The boy bit his lip and shied away.

“I-I… I ran away from home for a while,” he said, “I… I just… I heard the two of you here having a lot of fun, so… I…” he looked down at his shoes (shiny, _proper_ black ones) and shuffled around in them. “… My uncle told me to… have fun with you.”

Alfred and Matthew shared a look, and the two of them smiled brightly.

“Okay!” Alfred cheered, smiling brightly, catching the attention of the boy, who looked up at him with wonder in his eyes. “Let’s go on an adventure, then! Just the three of us!”

The boy stared at them for a moment, dumbfounded, before eventually a smile spread across his face. Alfred absently thought that the boy looked so much better with a smile on his face than without.

“Can we be pirates, then?” he asked, his voice getting excited, yet still unsure.

“Aw, but I thought pirates were bad guys! I want to be the hero!” Alfred grinned, and the boy’s smile turned into a gleeful grin that mirrored Alfred’s.

“Well then, _I’ll_ be the pirate, and _you_ can be the commodore!” he grinned, and Alfred’s face fell blank.

“… Mattie, what’s a comodor?” he asked, turning to look at Matthew, who chuckled behind his hand. The boy laughed, then and there, and Alfred, despite being the butt of the joke, found himself smiling at the sight of the boy laughing.

“He’s the captain of the navy,” the boy spoke up for Matthew, “The, uh, _good guys_.” He uselessly gestured with his hands awkwardly.

“Oh,” Alfred nodded in understanding. “Okay.” He cast a glance at Matthew. “You can be the mermaid we’re fighting over!”

“Wh-what?!” Matthew spluttered, but the boy laughed, getting into a stance for a swordfight.

“On your guard, Commodore!” the boy crowed, before jabbing at Alfred with an imaginary sword. “You’ll never take me alive!”

Alfred’s grin widened in understanding and got into stance as well. “I’ll show you, pirate!” he laughed, jabbing back at the boy, dodging and parrying along the way. “I’ll defeat the bad guys ‘cause I’m the hero!”

\---

They spent the next hour playing together, bright laughter and childish story-telling: Matthew had somehow upgraded into the Kraken some time in the middle of their little adventure, and their little game ended up with Alfred and the boy teaming up to defeat him.

After it was all over, Matthew sinking to the floor in mock defeat with a loud death cry, the three boys laid down on the grass together, laughing, the three of them pleasantly tired from all the running around. Alfred noted with no small amount of pride that Arthur’s prim and proper clothes were now as rumpled and dirty as his and Matthew’s.

“That was fun!” Alfred giggled, rolling around in the soft grass. “Adventures are always more fun with more people in it.”

“You said it,” Matthew agreed, sighing contentedly. “Thanks for tagging along.”

“You’re welcome,” the boy replied, the grin on his face never leaving, like as if it was permanently there for the rest of his life. Alfred preferred it that way, though. He liked it when the boy smiled.

“Come to think of it,” Alfred sat up, looking down at the boy. “We never got to know your name.”

“It’s Arthur.” The boy replied, sitting up to look at Alfred properly. “I’m very sorry for being rather rude earlier.”

“Aw, it’s nothing,” Alfred smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his head as Matthew sat up as well. “You were probably embarrassed. I was coming off a little bit pushy, wasn’t I?”

“Hardly,” Matthew rolled his eyes, earning him a light bat on his arm from his cousin.

“May I come here tomorrow to play with the two of you again?” Arthur asked, hope in his eyes as he clenched his hands together, eager.

“Sure thing. You can come every day if you want! Mattie and I are always here anyway!”

Arthur smiled gently, and Alfred thought his heart skipped a beat. He nodded, before getting up.

“I should get going.” He said, still smiling down at them. “It was nice meeting you, Matthew, Alfred,” he nodded at them both. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Same time?”

“You bet!” Alfred gave the boy a thumbs-up, and Arthur chuckled, before walking away.

\---

Arthur returned to them the next day, and the next one, and the one after that. Together, he, Alfred and Matthew would go on adventures all afternoon in the bright summer sun, laughing brightly as they ran around chasing space pirates, dragons, and saving damsels in distress. Soon, the three of them grew to be close friends, but Alfred and Arthur were much closer friends, the best of friends, even.

One day, it suddenly rained when they were playing, so the three of them rushed into the dry comfort of Alfred’s family’s barn, the three of them laughing as they stumbled in through the barn’s doors, alarming the animals inside. They bundled into a haystack to keep warm and wait for the rain to abate.

“Would you like to hear a story, you two?” Arthur suddenly spoke up when they had settled into a comfortable silence. The two boys looked at each other, before nodding.

“Sure. Let’s hear it.” Alfred nodded, and Arthur smiled shyly.

“I made it myself, though, so I can’t guarantee it’ll be excellent.”

“Don’t worry,” Matthew assured him. “We’re your playmates. We know how imaginative you are.”

So, Arthur began to tell them a tale of dragons and kings, princesses and evil wizards that left Matthew and Alfred wide-eyed and gaping as he told the story. When it had been over, the rain had long stopped, and yet they were still there, just until the story had ended.

“That was amazing, Artie!” Alfred smiled brightly. “Just like a real adventure!”

Arthur blushed, and turned away. “I-it’s just a story.”

“But the way you told it was so _magical_ ,” Matthew breathed. “I think you’ll make a fantastic author, Arthur.”

“R-really?” Arthur asked, his eyes glimmering with hope.

“Yep, definitely!” Alfred nodded, “Hey, hey! I want a story with me as the hero in it next!” he grinned widely, and Arthur laughed softly.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he nodded, before saying his goodbyes and going home.

\---

The next few days were spent by Alfred and Matthew just listening to the stories Arthur would tell them, and even adding to it to make them even more interesting. Alfred truly loved his times with them, but with chagrin he realised his summer vacation was about to end.

Matthew had fallen ill one day, so it was just Alfred who met up with Arthur at the usual spot—the tire-swing tree where they had met. When Alfred got there, however, his eyes widened in shock to find Arthur already there, crying by himself, curled up under the tree next to the tire-swing, his shoulders rocking as he wept into his arms.

“… Artie?” Alfred ventured, and Arthur turned his head to look at him, his eyes bloodshot and filled to the brim with tears. “… What happened?” he asked as gently as he could, keeping his tone even and calm as he approached Arthur like one would a frightened animal.

“Oh, Alfred,” Arthur cried, as Alfred drew closer, before throwing himself at the blonde and wrapping his arms around him. “Th-they said—they said—I’ll—I’ll never be good enough!”

Alfred frowned, hugging Arthur back. “Who said that? They must be stupid! Your stories are the best, Artie!”

“That’s the problem, Alfred,” Arthur said, shuddering as he hiccupped between sobs, “M-my father, h-he, he doesn’t want me to be an author,” he hugged Alfred tighter. “H-he _hates_ what I’m doing.”

“What? How could someone hate your stories? They’re the best!” Alfred pulled away from Arthur to wipe away the boy’s tears messily. “They’re idiots! Don’t listen to them!”

Arthur blinked at him owlishly, as Alfred continued to dry his tears. He hadn’t realised the reason why, but suddenly his vision was clouding up, Arthur’s image shuddering between rainbows and big globs of liquid.

“… Alfred, you’re crying.”

“Wh-what? H-heroes don’t cry!” Alfred denied, sniffling, before wiping his nose on his sleeve, before continuing to wipe his thumbs clumsily over Arthur’s cheeks. “I-I’m not crying!”

Arthur stayed silent for a moment, before a sad smile crossed his face. “Thank you for caring so much about me.” he smiled, wiping Alfred’s tears away from underneath his glasses. “I’m so very happy I have a friend like you.”

They sat down next to each other and leant against each other in comfortable silence under the shade of the tree.

“Tell me a story,” Arthur quietly spoke up after a while, and Alfred nodded, swallowing. He wasn’t sure if he was doing a good job or not, but if his story wasn’t as good as he thought it was, Arthur wasn’t showing signs of it, just quietly listening with a small smile on his face.

\---

They spent the next hour or so just talking, about each other. Alfred learnt that Arthur’s family was a terribly boring one, more focused on adult-things and totally condemned Arthur’s love for writing, saying things like such an interest will get him nowhere. He had brothers, but all of them were much older than he was and were too disinterested in him or bullied him around a lot. His youngest brother was still just a baby, so he couldn’t play with him either. Arthur’s only friend at home was his uncle Francis, who was also his tutor. He was the one that allowed Arthur to go play with Matthew and Alfred every day, covering up for Arthur when his father had asked questions.

They had grown considerably closer after that, meeting together whilst Matthew was still sick. Soon, Alfred found that the day he returns to the city was far too soon for his liking. He was going to have to tell Arthur sooner or later.

He chose to do so one slightly cloudy day, the sun was still in the sky but it was cool enough to not be searing hot.

“Artie… I’m going to return to the city soon.” He said, and totally differently from what he was expecting, Arthur merely nodded, sighing like he was carrying a heavy weight on his shoulders.

“… Me too, actually.” Arthur replied, “I’m going back to England. Tomorrow.”

Alfred’s eyes widened. “Gosh, so soon!”

“I know,” Arthur laughed sadly, “I’m going to miss you. And Matthew, too.”

Alfred frowned, before pulling Arthur into a hug.

“Promise me you’ll stay in touch.”

“Yes, I promise. Do say goodbye to Matthew for me, please.”

The two boys pulled away, looking at each other, their hearts heavy.

“… Hey, Artie?”

“Yes?”

“My mommy told me that there was something people do to those they liked, and well, I like you… a lot.” Alfred fidgeted around, nervous.

“… Do you want to kiss me?” Arthur asked, his cheeks staining pink, and at his shy words, Alfred’s cheeks burst bright red in embarrassment.

“U-uh, if-if it’s not—if you don’t mind,” Alfred stuttered, and Arthur laughed sadly, nodding, his smile widening.

“I don’t. You can kiss me, then.” He smiled, leaning forward, and Alfred did so.

Their lips brushed as around them, the wheat rustled in the wind peacefully, white cotton-fluff clouds rolled by lazily, as the leaves in the tree above them rustled in the wind. Spots of sunlight dotted the two boys as they pulled away, the both of them blushing.

“I’ll see you again someday?” Alfred asked, and Arthur nodded, smiling softly.

“Think of it as a brand-new adventure, Alfred,” he whispered, leaning forward so their foreheads touched. “And you know how they always end, right?”

“Happily ever after,” Alfred breathed, his eyes meeting Arthur’s. “You’d better make sure on that.”

“Let’s make a promise, then.” Arthur said, holding out his pinkie. “Pinkie-swear.”

“Pinkie-swear.” Alfred grinned, nodding. “We’ll meet again.”

Arthur’s smile was so nice to look at, Alfred felt his heart fluttering at the sight of it.

“This is goodbye, then.” Arthur said after a while, getting up, when Alfred grabbed the hem of his shirt.

“No, not goodbye.” Alfred shook his head, standing up. “See you soon.”

Arthur stared at him, blinking owlishly, before a smile crossed his face, tears welling up in his eyes. He threw himself at Alfred, wrapping his arms around the taller boy and hugging him tightly as his tears stained the boy’s sleeves.

“See you soon, Alfred.”

\---

Years passed, and they stayed in touch every now and then, but since they lived in different time zones it was terribly difficult for them to stay in proper contact for long. Soon Alfred graduated from college with a degree in engineering and astrophysics and was now packing his bags to head to work—at NASA, out of all places! His parents were so proud of him—when a package arrived at his apartment’s doorstep.

Curious, he opened it to find a book packed inside. His eyes widened when he saw the title. It was the bestseller _everyone_ was talking about on campus.

He opened the book at the first page to find a letter written in a handwriting so familiar it sent waves of nostalgia running up and down his spine.

_Alfred,_

_It’s been far too long._

_—AK_

It was flowing, and elegant, and Alfred instantly _knew_ whose it was. He flipped to the next page to find a dedication.

_To Alfred,_

_For teaching me the spirit of adventure._

Underneath it was a Post-it note with a number and a small question.

_Coffee?_

Alfred suddenly found that packing books on astrophysics into carton boxes a total drag, and instead reached for his phone, quickly dialling the number written there.

“ _I knew you’d still remember me._ ”

“How could I ever forget you, Artie?” Alfred’s childhood nickname for him sounded so good to his ears.

“ _And I, you. Starbucks, just at the corner?"_

“I’ll see you in 10.” Alfred grinned, before hanging up, grabbing a Stars and Stripes scarf and tossing on his favourite leather bomber jacket, before rushing out the door, making sure to lock it behind him (albeit hastily) before he sprinted to the elevator to get out of his apartment complex.

He knew, as he grew up, that not all stories ended up happily ever after, but despite all that he held on to that little promise two little boys shared one sunny day under a big old oak tree that someday, _one_ day, theirs will end just like all the stories of adventure they had.

As he jogged up to the nearest Starbucks, at the corner of the street, he saw that familiar mop of sandy blonde hair, pale face and alluring eyes smiling at him from the window, and at once, he knew.

Not everyone’s adventure may end happily ever after, but his and Arthur’s somehow _does_ , even after all those years.


	2. True Love’s Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GENRE: Romance, Fluff  
> RATING: T  
> WARNINGS: Underage drinking, a bit of swearing, devilish!Matthew!, music porn  
> PAIRING/S: USUK, Alfred/Arthur(America/England)
> 
> Alfred and Arthur are musical prodigies that fall in love after stealing each other’s first kisses.

The Die Welt Academy for Gifted Musicians was a prestigious school home to the world’s most talented young musicians, each one of them geniuses in their own instrument of choice. It is located in the beautiful mountains in Austria, high up in the mountains, where the view was absolutely spectacular: luscious rolling green hills way down below with softly swaying wildflowers, and above them, the pristine white snow that covered the tips of the mountains with a glimmering silver sheen. The air up there was cool, gentle and clean, perfect for carrying the beautiful sounds of music reverberating from open stained-glass windows of the academy.

One student sat all by himself at the empty courtyard—it was a weekend, almost everyone was down at the city, leaving the beautiful school almost empty, save for a few students and staff left behind—holding his violin and bow delicately in his hands as he peered out at the mountains with wistful summer-sky blue eyes. A sigh escaped his lips as he ran his hand down his face, before putting his glasses on with one hand.

“Come on,” he muttered to himself, standing up from his slouched position, before putting the violin in position on his shoulder. “One more time.”

_I’ve been dreaming of a true love’s kiss,_

The lyrics of the song flowed into his mind as his bow drew over the strings, each note ringing out clear as a bell chimes through the crisp, cool air, as his eyes slipped closed, phantom musical notes flowing behind his eyelids as he played the song plaguing his mind.

_And a love I’m hoping comes with this_

He nodded to himself, yes, yes, that’s how the song went, as he kept playing, turning slowly to breathe in the cool mountain air.

_That's what brings everaftering so happy_

Suddenly his hand came to a stop, his violin making an ear-splitting screech as his song came to an abrupt end. He frowned, opening his eyes, looking down at his violin.

“That was where the song stopped today.” He muttered, lowering his violin to scribble at the sheet music paper he had with him, resting innocuously on top of his violin case. Quickly, he wrote down the three new notes he remembered (bitterly cursing at how terrible his memory was) before folding the paper in half and tucking it into the small pocket on the case.

After packing up his things, he turned on his heel and returned to the school, heading straight to the practice rooms for his daily practice routine.

\---

Such was the life of Alfred Fitzgerald Jones, one of the violinists studying in Die Welt Academy. Every night, he would have the same dream—he kept hearing the same song over and over again, the lyrics stark clear in his mind like they had been burned there, as the melody played in his mind, the smooth yet sharp sound of his violin clean and crisp as the air around him.

But his dreams never lasted long. Before the song could even reach halfway, Alfred would wake up.

A blend of hurt pride, curiosity and frustration drove him to try and remember—to try and complete the piece, but as the days dragged on, Alfred could never ever get past halfway through the song.

“Alfred-san, that is a beautiful song, but perhaps you are pushing yourself a little too much?” his friend Kiku told him one day, plucking at his _koto_ , not looking up as he played what he could remember of what Alfred was playing. “You should rest. Let the song come to you when it wants to.”

“I’ve been doing that for the past _month_ , Kiku, I’m pretty sure I’m going to have to _make_ it come to me or I’ll split a vein trying to figure it out.”

“Calm,” Kiku chuckled, before playing a traditional tune, the notes light and airy, giving Alfred the image of swaying bamboos in the wind of imminent rain. “Calm. Like the falling rain.”

“Not unless it’s a storm,” Alfred said, but he sat down, setting his violin gently down in its case. “God, I’m so frustrated. It’s been in my head for weeks.”

“So I have noticed.” Kiku chuckled, “If you’d like you may come join me. I have to be in town later tonight, you may relax there.”

“You’re going to a _party_?” Alfred blinked, and Kiku chuckled behind his hand.

“Of some sorts. It is my cousin’s birthday, after all.” He said, and Alfred nodded slowly.

“… ‘Kay. Sure. I’ll come with.” Alfred nodded, before packing up his violin. “What time do we meet up?”

“5 PM will do,” Kiku nodded, “I shall see you later, Alfred-san.”

“You got it.” The blonde winked at the black-haired teen, before making his way out of the practice room.

\---

And what a party it was. Someone had managed to sneak in alcoholic beverages (Alfred had a sinking feeling it was Gilbert, their orchestra’s flutist) and soon, the polite just-eating-and-talking party turned rather loud and full of activity, and Alfred found himself relaxing, just like Kiku had said. He was grinning brightly as he was handed his (third? Fourth? He didn’t really know how many) drink _again_ , before he downed it quickly, earning him bright laughter and cheers from the gaggle of students there with him. He was laughing brightly, having a lot of fun, when suddenly someone was shoved onto his lap.

His alcohol-fazed brain barely registered the person’s face, but he _did_ know that he was being straddled in his seat. He knew what he was supposed to do—push them _off_ , for the love of God—but his dazed mind had known better and instead his hands came to a rest on the person’s waist, encouraging them to make a move.

All of a sudden, his glasses were removed and he felt soft, warm lips on his as he looked into a pair of beautiful green eyes.

That was all he remembered, and then he blacked out.

\---

He woke up the next day with a migraine and someone knocking on the door of his bedroom (how on _Earth_ did he get back in the dormitory?) like they were intending to break it in if he didn’t answer it.

Grumbling, he held his head in an attempt to stop the world from tilting precariously (although, that was just him, nothing was wrong with the world at all,) as he got up and answered the door.

“What?” he groaned, squinting to see that it was his cousin Matthew at the door. “Do you really have to bother me? My head feels like it’s being cleaved into two.”

“I come bearing aspirin,” Matthew said simply, grinning, like as if he knew something Alfred didn’t, but right now, he couldn’t care less. He needed that aspirin.

Alfred lunged for the paper bag Matthew was carrying and opened it to find a bottle of water and some aspirin. Letting out a loud sigh of relief, Alfred grabbed one, popped it into his mouth, before downing almost half of the water in the bottle.

Matthew was chuckling behind him. “Hey, at least you’re not throwing up.”

“… Now that you mention it,” Alfred held up a finger, before running into his in-room bathroom to toss the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl.

Matthew was then at his side, rubbing his back until he was done. Still grinning that patronising grin that annoyed Alfred’s fuzzy mind, he handed the blonde the water bottle and letting him drink.

“So.” He said, as the two of them settle down next to each other on Alfred’s bed. “What a party you went to last night.”

“Who told you about that?”

“Gilbert did. He told me he brought in some booze, too.”

Knew that bastard did it, Alfred muttered under his breath, but Matthew heard him and laughed.

“He said you were an absolute _riot_.” Matthew laughed. “I can’t find that hard to imagine.”

“Shut it,” Alfred groaned, before burying his face into his pillow. “I’m not ever drinking again.”

“That’s what they all say.” Matthew chuckled. “So, anything interesting happen last night?”

Alfred blinked at him for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts on what had happened the night before: there was drinking, yes, lots of food, Kiku was there, but he wasn’t drinking, the cheating bastard, and…

A bright red blush crossed his face, and a positively _wicked_ grin spread across Matthew’s face.

“Oh, oh, you did something _naughty_ , didn’t you?”

“D-did not!” Alfred croaked, the memory of the warm kiss flooding his mind like water escaping a dam. “M-Mattie! Shut up!”

“Oh my God, your face is bright red!” the blonde teen guffawed, his face turning red in exertion as he laughed, bending over and grasping his stomach. “It says it all, Alfred!”

“Get out of here before I go shove your water drums up your ass, Mattie!” Alfred spluttered, chasing his cousin out the door. Matthew only laughed at him as he allowed himself to be shepherded out the door. “I mean it!”

“I’ll find out about this, Al!” Matthew chuckled just before he closed the door. “This is too hilarious to pass by!”

“Screw you!” Alfred yelled, slamming the door closed after him.

\---

Alfred went back to sleep—it was a Sunday, he belatedly found out, the blonde teen collapsing into his bed with a grateful sigh. He was out before his head hit the pillow.

His dream was different now, more… _complete._

The song had played fully now, but Alfred heard something else aside from his violin playing, and another voice singing along to the song, aside from his own singing it.

There was a piano playing in the background, and he was looking at the most startling shade of green as the song ended.

And then, at that moment, he felt the sensation of lips on his own—identical to the kiss he had at the pub in town the night before.

He sat up, alarmed, his eyes flying open, to find, naturally, no one in his room. Panting, Alfred looked down at his hands, twitchy and itching to get a hold onto his violin.

He raced out of bed, spotting the time glaring from his bedside table digital clock—it was 10 in the evening. He had slept the whole day, but he didn’t care as he pushed aside his night curtains. Throwing the windows open, making the transparent day curtains flutter as he did so, letting the cold air in, he shivered, but he felt thousands of times better now, and the memory of the song in his dreams still bright and clear as he grabbed his violin case and pulled his violin and bow out. He hastily straightened the bow’s horsehair strings and grasped it tightly between his fingers as he pulled his violin onto his shoulder, before letting the tune flow from the strings as vividly as his dream did.

_I've been dreaming of a true love's kiss_

“Yes, yes,” he muttered, playing through the notes he had been repeating for weeks on end. “Come on, come on…”

_And a love I'm hoping comes with this_

He turned around to look outside the window, where right above him he could see the full moon shining in the night sky, lighting clouds nearby it a gentle white hue.

_That's what brings everaftering so happy_

This was where he would normally stop, but his clear memory of the song allowed him to continue.

_And that's the reason we need lips so much_

He could feel his frustration bubble away as his fingers danced over the violin’s neck, playing out the root of his frustrations, unwinding his tightly-coiled sensation, allowing him to lessen the tension knotting up under his shoulder blades.

_For lips are the only things that touch_

His bow stuttered slightly over the strings when he relaxed, but he kept going, correcting his posture as he felt himself smiling, continuing strongly.

_So to spend a life of endless bliss_

The images from his dream came rushing back as he approached the final line of the song, and Alfred’s eyes widened as the memory of the kiss in the pub returned to him, hitting him full-force like a ton of bricks.

 _Just find who you love_ …

“… Through true love’s kiss.” Alfred didn’t finish the line, lowering his bow and violin to look up at the sky, his hand holding his bow coming up to brush against his lips. He stayed silent for a moment, staring at the moon, before shaking his head. “No. What am I thinking? It was just some drunken night.”

He tried in vain to convince himself what he was saying to himself, but something moving around in his chest seemed to tell him otherwise.

He shook his head and played the song again, again and again for the rest of the night.

\---

“Well, looks like _someone_ didn’t get any sleep last night,” Alfred’s orchestra’s conductor, Romulus, smirked as the blonde stumbled into the room the following day, eye bags under his eyes.

“’M fine.” Alfred mumbled, before plopping into his seat next to Toris, their _kantele_ player. He offered Alfred a sheepish smile.

“Are you alright, Alfred?”

“I’m fine,” he smiled weakly at Toris. “What’s going on?”

“Well, for our next concert, we’re supposed to be performing in duets. The assignment’s been given out now, actually. You’d better go check on who you’re with. Toris pointed at a sheet of paper stuck to the wall nearby, and Alfred nodded his thanks, before going to inspect the paper.

_Alfred Jones (violin) – Arthur Kirkland (piano)_

“They’re pulling a classic violin-piano pair, are they?” Alfred mumbled, when he suddenly heard someone clearing their throat behind him.

“Well, if you’re done ogling that list, you git, I suggest you get moving to the grand piano so we can get started, don’t you think?” a posh-sounding British-accented voice snapped behind him. Alfred’s eyes widened and he turned around to see a blonde teen standing behind him, his arms crossed as one of his marvellously thick eyebrows were raised in annoyance. “Well? You’re Jones, am I correct?”

“Hey, listen, _pal_ ,” he snarled, “If you think you’re—” he fell silent upon seeing Arthur’s eyes. They were the same shade of green he was seeing in his dreams.

“Right, whatever.” Arthur scoffed. “Just… get moving. I don’t like being held up.” he turned around, like as if expecting Alfred to just follow him. The blue-eyed teen felt his blood boil as he held his ground.

Because if there’s _anyone_ in their orchestra who should be giving orders, it’s _him_.

\---

The following week had been an utter nightmare. Alfred and Arthur clashed so much, their egos full enough to fill a hot-air balloon each, that they could barely work with each other properly, let alone compose something together to perform in the imminent concert.

“Can’t you two just get along?!” Romulus yelled at the two of them, exasperated, having the last straw as he watched music sheets fly left and right. He had immediately stormed straight through to where the two teens were, bulldozing past pairs scrabbling to get out of the way. The two blondes merely looked away from each other, frowning at two opposite directions, refusing to give in. “Oh, for the love of God! If you two don’t pull it together, I’m going to pull your parts out from the concert!”

“What?!” Arthur gasped, as Alfred yelled, “No way!”

“Well then, get to it, or else you two Prima Donnas can sit on the sidelines this year.”

Alfred and Arthur shared a glance, and immediately looked away from each other, scowling.

“Your funeral.” Romulus frowned, before walking away.

\---

Alone in their practice room, the two glared at each other.

“If you would just _listen_ to what I tell you—”

“No, _you_ listen!”

Arthur threw his hands up and slammed them down on the piano’s keys. “We’re never going to get into that concert if we keep doing this! Why are you so bloody stubborn?”

“Why are _you_ so freaking bossy?” Alfred snapped back. “I want _my_ freedom too!”

“Oh, for the love of—” Arthur threw his hands up in defeat, and turned to look at the piano, before playing a few notes on it, a deep frown on his face.

_I've been dreaming of a true love's kiss_

Alfred paused, and did a double-take.

“… What did you just play?” he asked, making Arthur look at him.

“It’s an original composition, I’ll have you know.” He scoffed. “Of course, far superior than what _you_ have most likely in mind—”

He fell silent when Alfred played the next line:

_And a love I'm hoping comes with this_

They stared at each other for a long time, before Alfred broke his gaze, blushing slightly. “Y-you see, I’ve been dreaming about this song for a really long time, about a month ago.”

“Me too.” Arthur replied after a moment. “Except, every time, the song would just stop halfway—”

“Exactly!” Alfred nodded, “But then recently… ah,” his blush intensified. “Well, uh, I sort of, dreamt the rest.”

It was Arthur’s turn to blush. “A-ah, yes. That’s the same for me.”

They looked at each other for a moment, and slowly, a smile crept onto their faces.

“On three?”

“One, two,” on the next beat, they started together, Alfred playing the melodic line and Arthur playing the accompaniment he had improvised in the month he had been dreaming of it.

_I've been dreaming of a true love's kiss_

_And a love I'm hoping comes with this_

_That's what brings everaftering so happy_

_And that's the reason we need lips so much_

_For lips are the only things that touch_

“So to spend a life of endless bliss…” Arthur sang softly to himself, but Alfred heard him, and smiling slightly, he sang along.

“Just find who you love…” they looked at each other, their eyes locking.

“…Through true love's kiss.”

They fell silent, Alfred lowering his violin and bow, Arthur taking his hands off the piano as they leant closer and closer to each other—

“I heard what you two were doing! Looks like the two of you _could_ pull off this shit after all!” Gilbert’s loud voice boomed into the room as Alfred and Arthur pulled apart as fast as they could. “… Guys?” Gilbert blinked, seeing Alfred pressed tightly against the wall, as Arthur was clinging onto the piano like a lifeline. He raised an eyebrow, and moved to call Romulus to tell on Alfred and Arthur’s progress.

\---

The next few days went by swimmingly, the both of them putting the song together seamlessly, running into no kinks along the way—but the both of them pointedly avoiding the topic of their near-kiss during their first day.

The day of the concert came too soon, and soon Alfred found himself standing on stage next to Arthur, who was sitting at a grand piano, looking at him expectantly.

“On one, two…” on the next beat, they started seamlessly, melody and accompaniment blending together in perfect harmony.

_I've been dreaming of a true love's kiss_

_And a prince I'm hoping comes with this_

_That's what brings everaftering so happy_

_And that's the reason we need lips so much_

_For lips are the only things that touch_

_So to spend a life of endless bliss_

_Just find who you love through true love's kiss_

There was thunderous applause as their song came to an end, and flowers being thrown at them as he and Arthur stood up and took a bow.

\---

Backstage, they were greeted by excited friends, and the flurry of activity was seemingly endless, but eventually things calmed down and Alfred an Arthur found themselves alone as another pair performed on the stage outside.

“… You did great.” Arthur mumbled, catching Alfred’s attention, and the blue-eyed teenager grinned brightly.

“You too.” He nodded, and the two of them fell silent, awkward, once again.

“… Hey.” Alfred began. “Remember that time back when we realised we’ve been having the same dream?”

Arthur looked up at him, a blush spreading across his face, painting his pale cheeks red.

“Yes?”

“Well, uh,” Alfred struggled to find the words, “There’s something else I should probably tell you. I, uh, to get the full song,” he blushed. “I… kissed someone on Hong’s birthday party.”

“… Me too.”

Alfred blinked.

“… Except I was rather drunk at the time, and all I could remember was their eye colour…” he looked up at Alfred, eyes shy. “… They were blue like the summer sky.”

“Me too.” Alfred took Arthur’s hands in his. “I remember the most beautiful green I had ever seen in my life.”

Arthur’s eyes widened and Alfred leant in for a kiss. Their lips touched, and their eyes slipped closed as Alfred pulled Arthur into his embrace.

They pulled apart slightly, and Alfred let out a breathless laugh.

“You're the greatest man I've ever met, you were made…” he sang softly.

“To finish your duet.” Arthur sang back, smiling up at him.

“And in years to come we'll reminisce,” they sang together.

“How we came to love,” Alfred caressed Arthur’s cheek.

“And grew and grew love,” Arthur leant into his touch.

“Since first we knew love through true love's kiss.”


	3. I See the Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GENRE: Romance, Drama  
> RATING: T  
> WARNINGS: Major character death, mild swearing, bukkun's frustration at something a bit unsatisfying, trauma  
> PAIRING/S: USUK, Alfred/Arthur(America/England)
> 
> Alfred is an ophthalmologist that meets Arthur, a blinded victim of a vicious shooting. As he attempts to heal him, they end up falling in love.

" _Angus_!"

The screeching of tires—gunshots—someone  _screaming_ —

Arthur shot upright, a scream tearing out painfully from his dry, constricting throat, fear stabbing into his heart as he looked around the blackness around him, wide-eyed with fear. His heart leapt into his throat and he scrabbled to get out of wherever he was—he groped around him and felt sheets. He was in a bed?

"Hey, hey, calm down," a man's voice said from beside him, but when he turned to look; only blackness greeted him. He felt a warm hand on his arm, but it did nothing to calm him down as he flinched away, panic rising in his veins.

"Wh-where am I?" he demanded, practically screaming as he wrapped his arms around himself, shivering. "Wh-where are my brothers?"

"… They're okay," the voice gently told him, and a pair of strong, warm arms wrapped around him in a tight, protective embrace.  _You're okay, it's alright, you're going to be fine, no one's going to hurt you—_

"… Why can't I see anything?" Arthur asked shakily, as he gripped the man's arm tightly, scrabbling for purchase. "Wh-why is it so  _dark_ , please, t-turn the lights on, please—"

"… Arthur, I'm sorry, but you aren't able to see any more." The voice said in his ear, apologetic, sad and gentle, like as if the man was afraid he would scare Arthur away by merely the sound of his voice. "You've been blinded, I'm afraid."

"...Blinded? No longer able to see? That's impossible, that  _has_  to be impossible,  _please_ ," Arthur pleaded, but the man held him tighter, his embrace a gesture of comforting. "… No.  _No_."

"I'm sorry."

Tears gathered at his eyes—his unseeing,  _blind_  eyes—and rolled down his cheeks as shock, horror, mortification and despair flooded his senses, and Arthur did nothing to hold his tears back, allowing himself to sob with abandon into the man's shoulder.

It had taken Arthur a long time to calm down, but the entire time, the man stayed with him, just comforting him quietly by his side. Now that his mind had cleared somewhat (however, still filled with  _I'm blind, can't see, blind, no sight blindblindblind_ _ **blind**_ ) Arthur was sure he had gotten the man's shoulder thoroughly wet as he had sobbed in it, so he blindly reached out to touch it, and his fingers came in contact with wet cloth.

"Oh, hey. You feeling better?"

Gingerly, Arthur nodded, "I'm sorry for getting your clothes wet." He apologised, and he heard the man chuckle, before a warm hand ruffled his hair.

"It's okay. Everyone would react like that if  _they_  were blinded like you were."

Arthur pursed his mouth and lowered his head.

"Ah, shit, sorry, I shouldn't have said. I'm sorry, sorry, sorry!"

"… It's alright." Arthur said after a long while. "I'll be stuck like this forever, anyway."

"Actually, no." the man said, and Arthur's eyebrows lifted in hope. "Well, in theory, anyway." Arthur's shoulders slumped, and he felt the man pat the both of them heavily. "Hey, don't be so discouraged! You see, there's a chance that I might be able to restore your eyesight! Isn't that great?"

"… You?" Arthur asked, cocking his head.

"O-oh, that's right, I haven't introduced myself yet." He felt the man grasp his hand and shake it. He shook it back. "Hey. It's nice to meet you. I'm Dr. Alfred F. Jones, but you can call me Al if you want to."

"I'd rather Alfred, thank you." Arthur nodded. "Are you my doctor, Alfred?"

"Well, not really, I'm your ophthalmologist, but your recovery doctor's name's Ludwig Weillschmidt. Your psychiatrist's Francis Bonnefoy."

"Whatever do I need a psychiatrist for?" Arthur asked. "I'm perfectly fine."

"No, you're not, actually. You're supposed to be in shock."

Arthur pursed his lips, before thinking about the last thing he remembered before he lost consciousness.

Gunshots. Skidding tires. Screaming.

Arthur's eyes widened, even if he couldn't see from them.

"Where are my brothers?" he held Alfred's hand tightly, shaking slightly. He felt Alfred's other hand run down his back in a soothing manner. "M-my brothers, Alfred. Angus, Seamus, Dean, and Peter, oh  _God_ , where's Peter?"

"Well, about that…" Alfred paused for a moment. Arthur heard the rustle of clothing. Was Alfred scratching the back of his head? "… Look, this is going to be difficult for you, but—"

"Where. Are. My. Brothers, Alfred?" he punctuated each word firmly, and the doctor next to his bed sighed.

"Angus lost an eye. Peter needs surgery." Arthur's mouth hung open in shock.

"What about Seamus and Dean…?"

"… I'm sorry, but they didn't make it."

Arthur's mind was reeling from shock, but oddly he remained eerily calm. "May I talk to Angus, then?"

"Sorry, pal, but he just left the country."

The pressure was too much,  _far_ too much for Arthur to handle. For the second time that day, Arthur's shattered life broke into more impossibly smaller shards.

* * *

"Arthur, please eat something." Alfred's voice pleaded him from somewhere from his right. "You gotta."

Arthur turned his head away, his heart heavy, yet his mind turbulent like a storm that tore apart his mind bit by bit.

How could Angus have left him and Peter here behind, now even more so, at the time they needed him the most? He couldn't understand why. Was there something to be ashamed of? Could he be possibly blaming himself for what happened to Seamus and Dean?

Arthur suddenly felt the prick of a needle in his arm, and he jolted in alarm, turning his head to the direction he last heard Alfred, who had fallen silent.

"Wh-what did you do to me?" he demanded.

"It's an IV. You know, since you wouldn't eat." Alfred's detached voice explained, as Arthur felt a foreign liquid flow into his arm. "You're going to make this hard on yourself."

"You aren't exactly helping," Arthur snapped, and he felt the man's fingers on his arm jolt away. He sighed. " _Please_ , could you just… leave me alone? Just for now. Let me have some time to think."

The man hesitated for a moment, but he eventually said yes, before the tell-tale sound of the door opening and closing indicated that the man had left the room. After waiting a minute to make sure Alfred was gone, Arthur lay back in the bed, and cried, cried and cried.

* * *

Alfred closed the door behind him, a frown on his face. This did  _not_ turn out very well. He looked back at the door, before shaking his head, walking away.

* * *

Hours ago, handling the public was a  _nightmare_. Alfred and his nurse Elizaveta did their best to help out Dr. Weillschmidt handle the throng of journalists and police, though they were the brothers' doctors as well. They were worn out by the time the last of the people (media men and police men alike) had filed out of the hospital. Tired, Alfred looked back at the ER where the five young brothers were rushed to, and with a sigh, he slumped over to the nurse station, where one of the male nurses Elizaveta was dating, Roderich, looked at him with his elegant eyebrow curved upwards like he was judging the young doctor.

"Yes, Dr. Jones?"

"I want to go see Angus Kirkland. I need to see if he's recovered somewhat." Alfred sighed, "And then I need to see Arthur Kirkland's papers. The blunt force trauma to the back of his head looks severe, I'm thinking nerve damage."

"It  _is_  nerve damage, actually," Roderich replied, handing him two pristine white folders he pulled out of one of the shelves behind him. "Optic. Dr. Honda already ran some tests. Your call." He said.

"He's been blinded?" Alfred clicked his tongue, looking through the papers before nodding. "He's not going to take this very well." he muttered, before walking away.

* * *

"Mr. Kirkland, hello." Alfred greeted as he entered the room, spotting the fire-red-haired man sitting up in his bed, looking around with his only good eye. "Thank goodness you made it."

"My brothers. How are they?" Angus said, his Scottish accent much thicker in a flurry of dark emotion, but irrevocably laced with worry for his family.

"… Well." Alfred bit his lip. "I'm sorry, but unfortunately, Dean and Seamus were dead on arrival."

Angus' eye darkened, and his hands balled into fists in the bed sheets. "Arthur and Peter?"

"They're okay," Alfred said, "Peter needs surgery, and well, it's just been confirmed that Arthur's suffered some severe head trauma." Angus' eye widened and he looked at Alfred in alarm. "Well, he's in a coma right now, and we've confirmed his optic nerves have been damaged."

"… He's blinded." Angus merely stated, and Alfred nodded, biting his lip. The man fell silent, and the two of them sat there in awkward silence.

"Uh, I need to go," Alfred said, getting up, but Angus paid no attention to him. Forehead creasing in worry, he headed out the door.

* * *

When Alfred first saw Arthur, he couldn't help but notice how… ethereal the man looked unconscious, like a pale delicate fairy that was simply sleeping. He resisted the urge to run his fingers through the man's hair and along the smooth, unblemished skin of the man's cheeks.

When Arthur's eyes opened, Alfred found himself staring at a pair of the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen—vibrant green like grass in a spring field, greener than his mother's emeralds—and yet, they were unfocused, unseeing— _blind_.

That was when he  _knew_  he was doing the right thing, signing up for the nerve restoration project alongside his long-time colleague Dr. Kiku Honda. Together they were going to give Arthur his eyesight back, and damn it all, Alfred will make  _sure_  Arthur sees again, just to have the chance to see life in those beautiful gemstone greens again.

Alfred hadn't realised something important, though. He had irrevocably fallen in love with his patient.

Day after day, he would spend his free time with the blonde man, talking to him about anything and everything—but carefully avoiding the issue of Angus' disappearance. In the time he had talked to the blind patient, he learnt that the man had a terribly pessimistic opinion of the world, something Alfred was determined to change.

"Peter's getting better," Alfred said to Arthur one time, his hand loosely balled in the sheets of Arthur's bed, "I'm pretty sure next week, he'll be able to see you."

"I see." Arthur simply nodded.

"Chin up. I'm sure everything's going to be fine."

" _Fine_? Alfred,  _nothing_  is ever going to be fine." Alfred winced at the sudden sharp tone of the man's voice. "I've lost two brothers— _family_ —in a shootout between utterly selfish people that have apparently no qualms with involving bystanders, I've been  _blinded_ ," Alfred began to speak, but Arthur shook his head, "Don't give me that 'you'll get better' bollocks, the both of us  _know_  what you're doing is impossible, and most importantly, I've been  _abandoned_ , abandoned by one of the people I've depended on ever since our parents died. Alfred,  _nothing_  will ever be fine again. Nothing."

Alfred gritted his teeth in anger and grabbed Arthur's hands.

"What are you doing, you git?"

"Listen here, Arthur," he growled, "I've got my own share of shit in my life. My dad died in service in Afghanistan, my mother was an alcoholic, and worst of all, my brother—my own  _twin brother_ , Arthur, I had to euthanize him myself when we were trapped in a hostage taking of one of the hospitals I used to work to." His voice shook as he forced himself to pull up the memory of the sight of blood, too much blood, all over his hands, the sound of fire crackling in the background, people wailing far below him, and the feel of a warm body turning cold in his arms. "But I'm still here, because I believe things  _can_ get better."

Arthur was frozen in place, and gingerly, his hands gripped Alfred's.

"Trying to see it your way," Alfred laughed bitterly, "How can something break when it's already broken?"

"… Oh, Alfred. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, I got over it." Alfred sighed, shoulders slumping. Gently, he rested his elbows on Arthur's thigh. "See? We're both broken. I understand what you're going through. But you need to stay strong if you're going to make it through. Don't you have someone you still live for?"

Arthur's lip wobbled and his unseeing eyes filled up with tears.

"Yeah, Peter." Alfred nodded, "You got to stay strong for him. If not for me, then for him."

Arthur nodded, biting his lip as tears spilled down his cheeks. Gently, Alfred wiped them away, earning him a jolt of surprise from Arthur at the sudden contact, but the blonde relaxed anyway. Feeling a rush of boldness wash over him, Alfred leaned forward and gently brushed his lips over Arthur's forehead. Surprise, his patient lifted his hand, brushing his fingers over the top of his forehead.

"… Did you just kiss me?" Arthur asked, and Alfred blushed, slightly grateful Arthur couldn't see his reddened face.

"I'll see you tomorrow." Alfred said, pulling away from Arthur, before heading towards the door.

"A-Alfred! Wait!" Arthur called after him, reaching out to him, but he was already gone.

* * *

The next few days were spent in awkward conversation about anything but the rush of boldness Alfred was now ashamed he did, he was Arthur's  _doctor_ , damn it all, he wasn't supposed to be even  _talking_  about Matthew, for crying out loud—

"Alfred? I've been thinking." Arthur spoke up, "About… a lot of things."

"Really?"

"I think I can get used to this," he gestured uselessly at his eyes, "M-my eyes, and everything." Alfred gaped at him, "But I'm not backing away from the prospect of having them back, I just… I've accepted it."

"That's great, Arthur." Alfred smiled, and Arthur's hands lifted to his face, his fingertips caressing over Alfred's face, tracing over the shape of his cheeks, soft touches brushing over his lips, tracing out his smile. "Arthur?" he asked, as Arthur's palms cupped his cheeks.

"You have a lovely smile." Arthur smiled gently, hands coming to a rest on Alfred's shoulders. "I wonder how it would look like."

"Do you want to see?"

"Yes, please." Arthur chuckled, and Alfred smiled softly, grasping Arthur's hands with his and guiding it to his mouth, gently pressing Arthur's soft palm on top of it, smiling into Arthur's palm. "Yes. Lovely."

"You have a beautiful smile, did you know that?" Alfred asked, "It's not just me."

"Oh, I don't know. My brothers would tell me…" he trailed off, his hand lowering from Alfred's mouth, and Alfred squeezed it gently to encourage him. "My brothers would tell me I scowl too much. I don't smile enough."

"You can smile now. You have all the time in the world to."

"Yes, I do, don't I? Even if I can't see it for myself."

Alfred nodded, despite the fact he knew Arthur couldn't see him. "I promise you, I'll do whatever I can in my power to bring you your eyesight back."

Arthur sighed, smiling. "Yes. Thank you."

There was something swelling in Alfred's chest—happiness? Delight? He leant forward and before he could think about what he was doing, he pressed his lips against Arthur's.

He felt the blonde man jolt under him, and he made a move to pull away when Arthur's hands snaked around the back of his neck (blindly hitting the side of his neck in the process) and deepened the kiss.

He smiled into the kiss, and he felt Arthur smile back.

They pulled away, Alfred looking down at Arthur to see the blonde's cheeks had tinted a pink hue.

"Promise."

* * *

Years later, Angus had come back from long years abroad, working day and night to be able to pay for the hospital bills and their debts—that was why he had disappeared all those years ago.

Peter came back, unscathed save for the scars around his midsection that he bore proudly like a peacock and its beautiful feathers, more proud than anything of his scars that shaped him into something better than he was before.

One irrevocable thing, however, was Seamus and Dean's presence in Arthur's life, but it was something he embraced with open arms, for it was something he had accepted long ago that it was out of his hands.

And the best thing of all—the best thing that could ever happen to him—

His eyesight came back, with something brighter and better:

The light.

The light he could finally see.


	4. A Whole New World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GENRE: Romance  
> RATING: K+  
> WARNINGS: Science boners and Bukkun using her Biology knowledge for once. Extensive biology? IDK.  
> PAIRING/S: USUK, Alfred/Arthur(America/England)
> 
>  
> 
> Alfred is marine biologist that accidentally discovers Atlantis.

"Alfred-san! Alfred-san!" Kiku's excited voice caught Alfred's attention, pulling it away from the sea urchins he was staring at intently. "The submarine has arrived!"

Alfred's eyes brightened up, and he dropped what he was holding to run out of the laboratory, a grin so wide on his face his cheeks hurt as he rushed out onto the deck of the boat as it gently swayed in the calm seawater. He let out a breath of awe as he looked down at the small submarine that looked like it had come out of the movies Alfred watched.

"It's so cool!" he cheered brightly, leaning over the handrail of the boat to look at it. "Oh, my gosh, finally they decided to spend money on this project!"

"Yes," Kiku nodded, "With this, we can see if there's life all the way down there in the trench." The Japanese man walked up next to him, also smiling down at the submarine. "A new discovery. I cannot wait."

"Me too!" Alfred bounced on his heels as the captain of their ship approached them.

"You'd have better calm down first," Captain Ludwig Weillschmidt sternly said, like a father would to a rowdy child, "It would do you no good if you got hurt."

"Aye-eye!" Alfred cheered brightly, giving the man a mock-salute. Ludwig sighed, crossing his arms, shaking his head fondly.

"Well, let's get set-up, Alfred-san," Kiku said, the smile on his face widening, the usually calm and stoic man now just as excited as his friend was, only in a more calm, somewhat collected way. "Let's waste no time!"

"Be back before dusk." Ludwig said, "Feliciano's making dinner tonight to celebrate the submarine."

"Awesome!" Alfred pumped his fist into the air, before dragging Kiku along with him inside the lab to collect what equipment they needed.

* * *

The dive was surreal, to say the least. As he and Kiku descended into the dark depths of the trench, the light above them diminished little by little, as fish swam past them, the two scientists huddled together inside the small cockpit looking at them with starry-eyed wonder, mouths agape in awe and excitement as they eagerly monitored their surroundings, turning the light of their submarine around to see what hid in the darkness around them.

" _Ship to submarine. Can you read me?_ " Ludwig's voice crackled over their communications speaker.

"Loud and clear, Captain!" Alfred smiled, "Everything's good, so far; brilliant, even!"

"Alfred! Look! The  _Melanocetus johnsonii_!" Kiku pulled at Alfred's lab coat excitedly. "It's my first time seeing it live like this!"

"Where, where?" Alfred gasped, turning his attention to the window of the cockpit, pressing his nose to the thick glass. "Oh my fucking  _God_ , it's so  _beautiful_!"

"Isn't it? Look at its fins! How I'd love to get a sample of them back at the lab!"

"Oh, my God! Kiku! It's the  _Eurypharynx pelecanoides_!" Alfred, giddy, bounced in his seat as he scrabbled at the controls to take photos of the rare specimen. "I can't believe our luck!"

Kiku was getting giddy as well, as his usually nimble fingers stumbled over the control panels, regulating their speed of descent and depressurizing the cockpit.

" _That's nice and all, but I can't understand a thing you're saying, you two_ ," Feliciano suddenly whined over the line, " _But it sounds like you're having fun down there, ve~_ "

Alfred and Kiku shared looks and chuckled, as they heard Ludwig wrestle Feliciano away from the communications computer.

It was all magical, and Alfred felt the rush of euphoria wash over him—

When suddenly their little submarine jolted with a loud bang, as something they couldn't see rammed into them, sending their submarine spinning. Alfred grit his teeth and gripped the controls, rushing to right their submarine, and when he had somehow managed to right it, they were hit again from another angle, and Alfred wrenched the controls sharply to the right, trying to get away from their assailant.

" _What's going on? What happened?_ " Ludwig demanded.

"We're being attacked by something, we don't know what!" Kiku replied, his voice panicked.

"Turn the light off!" he yelled at Kiku, who nodded and did as he was told. All the lights in their cockpit dimmed into darkness, the only light meeting their eyes were from the buttons on the control panel that remained lit in the darkness. So far away from the surface, the surroundings were pitch-black, no more light piercing the dense water. Alfred and Kiku held their breaths, praying silently that their assailant would leave, they can't be seen, there's not a single light—

Their submarine jolted again, and Alfred swore.

"Shit!"

" _Pull up, pull up. Get out of there, you two._ " Ludwig ordered, and Alfred immediately obeyed, pulling up the controls, and their submarine began to ascend—

Their submarine jolted again, sending shockwaves running through them.

" _Keep going!_ " Ludwig barked, his tone urgent.

Kiku was frantically monitoring the pressurization and speed, as Alfred kept pointing the submarine up. As they ascended, light began to return to their vision, and Alfred could see a faint shadow a ways away from them. His eyes widened.

It was large, sized similarly to a human, with a long caudal fin like a shark's at the end of its tail, two second dorsal fins a little higher than the caudal keel, and another pair of pelvic fins higher than those.

Alfred couldn't see the top half of the creature, however, blurred by the dark water. The blonde scientist blinked. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before.

They were undisturbed the higher they went, until finally they made it to the surface, where Ludwig and Feliciano were waiting for them. The brunette Italian fussed over the two of them, Kiku exasperated at all the attention showered onto him, but Alfred merely let it slide, his mind far too occupied with what he saw down there in the water.

* * *

More than anything, it intrigued him more than scared him, and soon, Alfred found himself walking out on deck, basking in the moonlight, whilst behind him, Ludwig, Kiku and Feliciano were most likely fast asleep. Checking his watch, Alfred nodded.

11:30 PM. He had around three hours, give or take.

He climbed into the submarine as quietly as he could, and deployed it, descending just like what he and Kiku had done a few hours ago.

He left the lights off, this time, so as not to alarm whatever was in the dark water, and when he saw the depth readers reach depths past a thousand metres, he strained his eyes to look into the dark water, but it was all pitch-black, especially now that night had fallen. His only sources of light were the small red and green lights of the control panel under his hands, but he shrugged out of his lab coat and draped it over the buttons, dimming the lights further. He shouldn't alarm anything like this—

And that was when he saw it: a pair of startling green eyes staring right back at him.

Alfred's heart leapt into his throat and he leaned backwards, screaming in shock as the submarine jolted again, taking yet another beating from its assailant before. Panicked, Alfred screwed his eyes shut and reached for the communications line and opened the channel, pulling the microphone close to himself and yelling, "Stop! Please! Just stop!"

Had Alfred been thinking straight and not panicking, he would have dismissed the notion of even  _thinking_  of talking to whatever was attacking him would have worked, but he was far too gone into his fear to think it through—he was going to  _die_ , damn it, never to see the light of day again, decaying in a watery grave—

The pummelling miraculously stopped, and Alfred tentatively opened his eyes to find the same pair of green eyes staring at him from the darkness of the water. His own eyes widened in surprise, and he leant forward, grasping the knob for the brightness of the spotlights.

He turned it slightly, so a dim light shone on what was outside. He gasped.

Hovering in front of the window of the cockpit was a full-fledged  _merman_.

He had a human top half—creamy white skin, untouched by sunlight, and scraggly sandy-blonde hair, at his neck four slits, two at each side; gills, like a shark's—and his bottom half was a beautiful green tail, with the fins Alfred had identified when all he saw was a silhouette.

The sight itself was amazing, but what truly captivated Alfred was the intensity of the merman's eyes—they were the most vibrant shade of green Alfred had ever seen, more beautiful than the species of chlorophyta ( _Ulva prolifera_ , Alfred reminded himself, he needed to see the salinity of the area later) he and Kiku had seen the other day, and  _what was that merman doing_ —

The merman pressed his lips to the glass, cupping his hands around his mouth (they were webbed, Alfred had noted) and mouthed, " _What are you doing here?_ "

Alfred blinked. "… Are you talking to me?" he asked into the microphone. The merman rolled his eyes.

" _No, I'm talking to the contraption you're in. Of course I'm talking to you!_ "

Alfred would have laughed, if he wasn't so entranced by the beautiful creature outside his window.

"I'm… I'm Dr. Alfred Jones. I'm a marine biologist." The merman gave him a blank look. "Uh, I'm a scholar. I study the life in the sea."

"…  _You're not a treasure hunter? Or a poacher?_ "

"No. I wouldn't hurt any animal! I study them, I don't kill them!" he carefully left out the dissections he carried out in his undergrad, the merman really didn't need to know he cut up cats, frogs and sharks.

The merman looked contemplative, easing away from the window, giving him a look.

"I swear." Alfred pressed, "My friend and I came down here to study the life at the bottom of the trench. See the beauty of diversity."

" _You won't hurt anyone?_ " the merman asked, and Alfred nodded.

"Swear." He confirmed, crossing his heart. The merman's eyes widened at this, and he pressed his hands against the window.

" _You know how to do the Vow_?" the merman asked, and Alfred blinked.

"What?" he blinked, and the merman threw his hands up.

" _Wait here._ "

He swam away, and Alfred sat there, at a loss on what to do. He didn't have to think for long, however, when the merman came back, holding what seems to be a seaweed.

"Whoa, I didn't think there'd be some rhodophyta this deep," he said, and the merman eyed him strangely. "Sorry," he apologised, and the merman shook his head, before offering the weed to him. "… Wait, you want me to  _eat_ that?"

The merman nodded, and Alfred pulled a face, unsure.

" _Just eat it, and then come outside,_ " the merman shrugged, and Alfred gaped at him in shock.

"Excuse me; the pressure down here is enough to crush my brain, for crying out loud!" he protested, and the merman laughed at him, gesturing at himself:  _What about me, then?_

Alfred grumbled, annoyed, before controlling the extending arm of the submarine to take the weed from the merman. The merman looked on in interest as the metal arm approached him. He tentatively poked it for a moment, before giving it the weed. Alfred brought it into the submarine, and picking it up, he eyed it oddly, before looking at the merman.

The blonde merman only nodded, urging him on. Swallowing, Alfred tore off one part of it and put it into his mouth. The salty flavour made him shudder as he forced himself to chew it, before taking some more and eating it—

Suddenly there was a searing pain in his neck, and he doubled over in pain, gasping for air, falling over. He barely heard the merman pounding on the window, the pain searing through him blindingly, as the urge to get into water grew more and more. He pulled off his clothes hurriedly and entered the water chamber of the submarine, his glasses clattering onto the floor as he threw them off. Closing the hatch behind him, scratching at his neck as the pain grew, before punching the button that air-locked the chamber. He gripped the latch to outside and undid it, the rush of water through the doorway hitting him like a train, robbing him of his breath, easing the burning pain in his respiratory system—what?

Alfred blinked, opening his eyes, and much to his surprise, he could see clear as day—in saltwater, even! His eyes weren't getting irritated, surprisingly, and he looked down at his hands to find they were webbed, just like the merman's. Shock taking over him, Alfred looked down—and his legs were no longer there, instead, a beautiful blue tail was in its place, looking just like the merman's. Eyes wide in wonder, he experimentally swished his tail—it was just like moving his legs, except that they were bound together and were impossible to separate.

"Much better." An unfamiliar voice said behind him, and he turned to see the merman swimming up to him. "I was getting worried you might have drowned in that contraption of yours."

"I, uh, well," Alfred gestured uselessly with his hand. "Gosh. I can't even  _begin_ to tell you how amazed I am to meet you, this is all so exciting, and well, I can't—"

"Hush," the merman hushed him, putting a cool finger to Alfred's lips. The gesture was intimate in itself, and Alfred found himself blushing, suddenly very self-conscious at how he was very much without a top. Silently, he gratefully thought about the workouts he had been doing to qualify for his and Kiku's expedition. The merman swam around him, inspecting him. "So, you are a doctor? What are your methods of healing?"

"O-oh, well, I'm not a medical doctor, I, uh—whoa!" the merman swam right up to him and leaned close, their noses almost touching at their close proximity. "H-hey, back off a bit? Personal space here."

"You just said you were a doctor. Now you are a personal space?" the merman frowned, and it was almost comical, but Alfred was too flustered to really think about it.

"No, I'm a doctor of philosophy," the merman looked lost, and Alfred sighed, "It's just a title, okay? I'm not really a  _doctor_ -doctor, but you get the idea."

"Unfortunately, I cannot." The merman shook his head, and Alfred chuckled.

"Ah, never mind. Say, mind giving me your name? So I don't have to you know, call you 'the merman' in my head."

"My name is Arthur." The blonde said, "And, well, actually," his expression turned sheepish. "I'm not really supposed to be here." Alfred gaped at him. "I just snuck away from Atlantis to see what all the ruckus was about. Michael—my friend shark—had been really excited about some sort of contraption wandering around this deep, and well, the eels have been rather noisy about it too… I was curious."

Alfred blinked. "Really?"

Arthur bit his lip. "But when I saw your contraption, I thought that you were just raiders that came to destroy my home, so I," he looked away. "I'm very sorry."

"Well, I'm willing to forgive," Alfred nodded, "Just, uh, don't do that again. We're not bad guys, alright?"

Arthur nodded. "Well, you came here to look around, right? Shall I show you?"

"Y-you'd really do that?"

Arthur nodded, and Alfred smiled brightly. "Let's do it, then!"

* * *

Hand in hand, Alfred and Arthur swam together until they reached a beautiful kingdom glimmering a soft golden glow underneath a bubble that was protecting it. Alfred's eyes were wide with delight and wonder as Arthur led him through the town, waving at other mer-people left and right, showing Alfred the sights and sounds hidden safely away under the sea.

"This is a whole new world for me," Alfred confided, when they had reached a small hilltop a ways away from the palace. "It's amazing."

"It's called Atlantis. This is my home." Arthur gripped his hands. "But now, you have to promise something, with that Vow of yours you made back in your contraption."

"Anything."

"You mustn't tell the world of my home, please." Alfred's eyes widened. "I beg you, don't. I want it safe and protected, far away from harm. You'll promise me that, won't you?"

"… But, my research," Alfred's words died on his tongue when he saw Arthur's look, pleading and hopeful, and he sighed. "Yeah, okay. I promise."

A soft smile crossed Arthur's face. "It is a promise, then." He nodded, before leaning in to kiss him. Alfred's eyes widened and he pulled away, his face bright red. Arthur merely looked at him, not amused.

"Oh, come on. That is how we seal promises here." He rolled his eyes, before giving Alfred a small peck on his cheek. "And, maybe, you are rather handsome." He chuckled, before handing Alfred some more of the weed he had fed the man. "Keep this. You're welcome to come back any time."

Blankly, Alfred nodded, taking it from Arthur, who chuckled.

"Also, you may want to eat a bit more of that if you don't want to die."

No matter how bad the taste was, Alfred chomped down one long leaf, Arthur laughing at him as he made faces, forcing the half-chewed rhodophyta down his throat.

* * *

Returning to the submarine, Alfred had realised Arthur had fallen quiet and he looked over his shoulder to see the blonde merman had fallen back. "Arthur?" he asked, and the merman jolted, his green eyes widening as he looked away from whatever it was he was looking at to look at Alfred. "Is something wrong?"

"I was wondering if, if," he blushed, "If you were going to come back soon."

Alfred smiled gently. "Of course. I'll even show you  _my_  home this time. You've already seen a bit of it," he gestured at the submarine. "I'm getting a feeling you'll  _love_  the surface world. It's not filled to the brim with bad people, you know."

"Yes, I know." Arthur smiled, and Alfred blinked. He swam up to the blue-eyed man and looked up at him, leaning close and invading his personal space. "If I may offer you a small amount of relief, I'd like to tell you that I have been watching you for a while, actually." The scientist's eyes widened and he looked down at the merman looking up at him from between softly floating locks of sandy blonde hair. "I've seen you look at everything in the sea like they were the most beautiful things you have ever seen, and really, that made me so happy." He sighed, "All this time I had thought all humans knew was to take and steal and destroy—and yet, there is another kind of you humans, those that love my kind—you do not know what happiness knowing that brings to me."

"Oh, I think I'm pretty sure," Alfred chuckled, before leaning and kissing Arthur soundly. Pulling, Arthur gave him an odd look.

"I have not pledged any vows to you," he said, and Alfred shook his head.

"On the surface, babe," he winked, and that made Arthur blush, "That means you like someone." He chuckled. "And I think I may like you just enough to take you up on that invitation to your home." He grinned when Arthur started to look anywhere but Alfred. "And you're invited to mine. A whole new world, right?"

Arthur's eyes filled with excited curiosity as he looked at Alfred, lips curling up into a delighted smile.

"Yes, a whole new world." He nodded, and shyly he took Alfred's hands. "It's a promise."

"Seal it for me, then." Alfred grinned.

"And I shall mean it like how you humans do." Arthur chuckled softly, before leaning ever closer and pressing their lips together.


	5. If I Didn't Have You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GENRE: Romance  
> RATING: K+  
> WARNINGS: Cheesiness AGAIN, violinist!Sciencegenius!Alfred and StudentCouncilPresident!Arthur, hidden relationship  
> PAIRING/S: USUK, Alfred/Arthur(America/England)
> 
> Alfred and Arthur are lovers celebrating their anniversary.

"Artie! Artie!" Alfred grabbed Arthur's hands, spinning him around. "Happy anniversary!"

"A-Alfred! Unhand me, you git!" The Brit spluttered, a blush spreading across his cheeks, but a smile crossed his face as he let himself be spun around the student council's room. They were the only two inside the room, and Arthur visibly relaxed as Alfred slowed down, before pulling him into a tight hug, planting a sweet kiss on top of the blonde's head.

"Love you." The blonde chuckled, rubbing their noses together. "I actually remembered this time." He said.

Arthur chuckled, a breathless, happy sound, kissing Alfred on the nose. "Yes, and I'm very happy you remembered." He looked around and when he saw no one, he kissed Alfred fully on the lips. "So, I'm assuming you had prepared something, love?"

"Oh, you have no idea," Alfred snickered, and Arthur's eyebrow lifted. "I'll give it to you later tonight. What have you got here for me to integrate?" he asked, walking away from Arthur to look at the desk, inspecting the papers scattered on top of the desk.

"Wh-what are you talking about?" Arthur spluttered, "I-I'm doing my homework just fine! I don't need help!"

"Artie, your products are all wrong." Alfred stated, ignoring him, picking up a pencil on the table and sitting down on Arthur's chair. "Want me to teach you?" he looked up at Arthur, grinning as he patted his lap. "Come on."

"… Is there a catch to this?" Arthur asked, crossing his arms, his blush intensifying as he took a few steps closer to his boyfriend, who only grinned up at him.

"Do you want me to tell it to you nicely or do you want harsh truth?"

Arthur grimaced. "Just tell me."

"I may need help with Shakespeare." Alfred vaguely gestured at his bag, and Arthur laughed.

"I knew it," he shook his head fondly, before sitting down on Alfred's lap, smirking back at Alfred, who looked surprised—clearly, he didn't expect Arthur to actually sit on his lap. "Well, then,  _darling_ , teach me, and I may help you with Shakespeare."

"Knew it. Love you, babe."

"I love you too, Alfred."

* * *

When the sky had dyed orange and the school's bell tolled the end of the day, Alfred dragged Arthur out towards the back of the dormitory to lead him to an arch made from intertwined vines that led deep into the gardens at the back of the school. Arthur looked up at Alfred, who only winked and led him on, holding onto his hand and waist, leading him along like a dance partner on the dance floor.

Slowly, Alfred led Arthur through a labyrinth of beautiful flower bushes, until they came to a small alcove in the maze, where, waiting for them was a stone table that had a chequered tablecloth drawn over it. A candle stand stood brightly in the middle of it all, burning a lovely warm glow. There were two plates and a pair of glass goblets on top of the table cloth.

Arthur's eyes widened and he looked up at Alfred, a smile blossoming on his face.

"Oh, Alfred," Arthur sighed, leaning into Alfred's chest. "This is lovely," he gave him a soft kiss, "Did you fix this up?"

"Mattie helped out," Alfred grinned, leading Arthur to his seat, before reaching around to the other side—his seat—and pulled out his violin case.

"Alfred," Arthur's eyes lit up and a smile crossed his face.

"Yep, just for you, babe." He winked, taking out a beautiful violin and its bow, positioning it between his chin and shoulder, before taking stance.

He played a few test notes, Arthur leaning forward already, smiling gently, and he began to play.

" _If I were a rich man, with a million or two_ ," he sang as he played, and Arthur's eyes widened in realisation at what he was singing. Immediately, he clapped his hands over his mouth, trying not to giggle too much upon recognising the song. Alfred grinned and continued, " _I'd live in a penthouse, in a room, with a view_."

" _And if you were handsome (you are!), it could happen, those dreams do come true_ ," Arthur continued for him, and Alfred laughed.

"I  _wouldn't have nothin' if I didn't have you,_ " he continued after Arthur, " _Wouldn't have nothin'_ ," he winked at Arthur.

"Oh, you git," Arthur laughed, standing up and cupping Alfred's cheeks in his hands, before pulling him into a kiss.

Laughing, Alfred pulled away, and began to pluck at the strings of his violin— _pizzicato_ —and continued singing.

" _Can I tell you something?_ " he waggled his eyebrows at Arthur, " _For years I have envied your grace and your charm_ ," he leant close to Arthur, who laughed.

"Bollocks," Arthur shook his head, " _Everyone_   _loves you, not me._ "

" _I must admit it_ ," Alfred let go of his violin for a moment to hold his hands up in defence. " _Lovely, you always come through_." He snapped his fingers and returned to plucking. " _Babe, I wouldn't have nothin' if I didn't have you_."

Arthur chuckled, kissing him gently again, before pulling away, gently making Alfred lower his violin with soft hands.

" _You_   _and me together, that's how it always should be_ ," they sang together, " _One without the other, don't mean nothing to me, nothing to me_."

" _Yes, I wouldn't be nothin'_ ," Arthur shook his head at the obvious error in grammar, but he didn't correct himself, smiling up at Alfred instead, who beamed at him brightly, pulling away and lifting his violin to play again. " _If I didn't have you to love_ ," he giggled slightly, " _I'm just a punky Mr. Eyebrows with a pissy attitude_."

" _Hey, I told you this before_ ," Alfred continued. " _Sometimes_   _I get a little blue_."

"That, you do," Arthur nodded, smiling.

" _But_   _I wouldn't have nothin' if I didn't have you_." Alfred smiled, setting down his violin to get up, holding his hands out for Arthur to take. " _Let's dance_!"

Nodding, Arthur laughed brightly as Alfred swept him to his feet, spinning him round the perimeter of the small alcove that served as their temporary haven. They danced together to the rhythm that only the two of them knew, their hearts in sync as they turned and waltzed all around the area, the two of them longingly looking into each other's eyes as their hands fitted together perfectly like they had been moulded for each other.

" _Don't have to say it_ ," Alfred sang softly, as they slowed down into a slow dance in the middle of the alcove. He wrapped his arms around Arthur's waist, and in turn, Arthur wound his around the back of Alfred's neck.

" _We both know it's true_ ," Arthur continued, pressing their foreheads together, sighing softly as he leant against Alfred's larger torso.

" _I wouldnt have nothin' if I didn't have_ ," they sang together, smiling.

" _A, E,_ " Arthur poked Alfred's nose, making the taller teen chuckle.

" _I, O_ ," he sang, kissing Arthur's fingertips as they brushed over his lips.

" _That means you_ ," they ended together, before melting into a kiss.

They pulled away together, Alfred grinning down at Arthur. "Yeah."

"Happy anniversary, love."

"Happy anniversary, babe."


	6. Something There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GENRE: Romance, Action, Historical  
> RATING: T  
> WARNINGS: Cheesiness AGAIN, some good ol' Nazi hunting, Erik Lehnsherr style, crossdessing, little children, fem!Canada, possible faulty!French, Frenching.  
> PAIRING/S: USUK, Alfred/Arthur(America/England); OMC/Arthur(Original Male Character/England, but I swear, this is just plot device)
> 
> Alfred is an American spy hiding out in Nazi-occupied France, and when he gets shot at (and wounded) after getting sold out, he finds himself crashing into the barn of a beautiful young… lady?

"Shit!" Alfred swore as he felt the cart he was hiding in jolt violently, the Frenchman hiding him there swearing as well. He looked up, scrabbling to grasp his gun and ignoring the burning pain in his leg, to see the Frenchman had turned to look at him.

"You must go," he whispered to Alfred urgently in his accented voice. "I cannot bring you with me any further, for there are checkpoints just past the next hill."

Alfred grit his teeth, but he nodded anyway, gathering himself together and getting up. "Thank you, so, so much, Francis." He said, and the blonde nodded. "You have done the Resistance well."

A wry smile spread across Francis' face and he nodded. "It is but an honour. Now go, before they see you."

Alfred nodded, and Francis slowed down the cart enough just so that Alfred could jump off without getting too hurt. Wincing as pressure returned to his leg, Alfred began to limp-run into the trees, not caring where he was going.

* * *

" _Álice, Álice_!" the voice of a young milkmaid rang clearly from the barn, a little girl with her hair tied in twin low ponytails walked out, holding up in her small hands a bucketful of milk. " _Il ya des gens à venir!_ "

" _Oui_!" the Alto voice of an older young woman called as she walked out of the stables, pushing her sleeves up to her elbows as she lifted her dress's skirt to help her walk. " _Marie, brosser les chevaux!_ "

" _Oui!_ " the little girl put the bucket of milk down on the porch of their home, before running into the stables where her guardian had been, as the elder woman went into their home to fix herself up. As soon as she shut the door behind her, she pulled off her long blonde hair—a wig—and scowled.

"Bloody Nazis think they can rat me out here? Not a chance," he murmured, annoyed as he reached for the pistol he kept hidden in the shoe cupboard and pulled up his skirt to attach it to the holster he had there.

Sgt. Arthur Kirkland of the Royal Navy was  _not_  about to let someone so much as  _touch_  little Marie Bonnefoy-Williams, the daughter of one of the generals of the French Resistance, one of his closest friends.

"Arthur," Marie's little voice floated in from outside. "I've readied the guns inside the stable. The soldier's coming closer."

"I'll take care of this," Arthur whispered to her, stroking her hair softly. "Stay inside." He said to her and she nodded, entering the house without a moment's hesitation. Scowling, Arthur put his wig back on, fixed himself in the mirror, and walked outside to meet with the soldier—but not without picking up a few pieces of laundry first.

" _Bon après-midi_ ,"  _Álice_  greeted, bowing her head demurely, a lock of hair falling past her shoulder. " _Y at-il quelque chose que je peut faire pour vous_?"

Arthur spared the man a glance—he looked rugged, like he had been dragged through hell and back, his clothes singed in places here and there, and his leg was tied with a makeshift bandage that looked like it was just a torn shirt. He looked at the man's face—he was dirty, tired, and  _unbearably handsome_ , with his striking blue eyes and messy golden blonde hair.

Then and there, Arthur resisted the urge to shake his head to clear his thoughts—where the  _hell_  did  _that_  thought come from, he was gawking at an injured man, for crying out loud!

"Uh, do you speak English?" the man asked, and Arthur's eyes widened. The man was an American. No wonder he looked so different.

Immediately, Arthur looked around, checking to see if there was anyone—any  _Nazi_ —around to watching them, and when he found none, Arthur leant forward. " _Come with me. I'll take you somewhere safe_." He whispered to the man, and he nodded. Arthur went up to the man's side and helped him support his weight shouldering the weight that was pressing onto the man's injured leg.

" _Thanks_." The man murmured to him, and Arthur felt his cheeks redden.

He silently felt mortified with himself as he helped the man into his home he shared with Marie, the little girl watching them from the doorway to the kitchen as Arthur moved the man to the armchair by the unlit chimney, helping him settle down.

"Ah, shit." The man swore, and Arthur glared at him.

"There is a  _child_  in the room. I'd like to ask you to keep quiet, please."

"O-oh, sorry," the man turned his head to look at little Marie looking out at him curiously from the kitchen doorway. "Hello there," he smiled, winking at her, and she blushed, before hiding behind the door. He chuckled, and the sight made Arthur smile gently. He caught himself smiling before the man could see him smiling, and put on a neutral expression when the man turned to address him.

"I have a medical kit upstairs. I'll help you out with that," he told the man, gesturing at his wound. "You'll need to take your trousers off, I'm afraid. Are you alright with that?"

"Sure thing." The man nodded, grinning. "The question is, little lady, are  _you_?"

Arthur felt a wild red blush of embarrassment burn across his face, and he spluttered, " _Pardon_  me?" he cried, his voice going much higher than it usually did. The man laughed a bright tinkling sound that was like music to Arthur's ears, and grinned at him fondly.

"You're about to witness my amazing assets," the man grinned. "You up for that, missy?"

Impossibly, Arthur's blush intensified, and pressed his hands onto the man's injured leg.

"Holy sh—sheep in the field!" the man almost swore, but he seemed to have remembered Arthur's words about little Marie. "Christ, are you crazy, lady?"

"That is what you get for being so  _rude_ ," Arthur huffed, before rushing upstairs to retrieve the medical kit. He spared a glance at himself in the mirror and gaped—his usually pale cheeks were bright red.

He spent a few minutes trying to calm himself down, and when the colour in his cheeks had subsided somewhat, Arthur returned to the lower floor, where he saw the man talking to Marie.

"Marie!" he gasped, " _Venez à l'écart de cet homme_!"

The little girl pulled away from the man like she had been burnt, and the man frowned at him.

"Oh, come on. I was just giving her this." He held up a small stick of gum. "Don't get them much around these parts, right?"

"… Well." Arthur fell silent, defeated, and he gestured uselessly with his hands for the man to carry on. The man beamed, positively brightly, and handed Marie the stick of gum, who stared at it in wonder, before running away into her room, suddenly far too shy to even face the American. Chuckling, he turned his attention back to Arthur, who was now approaching him, holding the medical kit in his hands.

"So, you're a Brit, huh." He said, and Arthur's eyes widened, looking down at the man in alarm. "Your English accent gave it all away. Gotta say, though, your French could have fooled me otherwise."

"I'm not overly fond of the language," Arthur shrugged, walking into the kitchen to fill a bowl with water and pick up a few washcloths. "Your trousers, please."

The man set to work on his belt as Arthur returned, and managed to wrestle himself out of his trousers, with a little bit of help from Arthur. The Brit's eyes widened upon seeing the man's toned legs, however, lean muscles slightly bulging, giving him a glimpse of the power that the man could display.

Arthur mentally groaned. Why was this man so stupidly attractive?

The man was grinning, and damn him, that look was good on him.

"Like what you see, missy? Although, a proper little lady like yourself might be a little overwhelmed by how awesomely attractive I am."

Alright, Arthur lied. This man was  _far_  from attractive.

"I beg to differ," Arthur scoffed, inspecting the gunshot wound, before taking out a pair of forceps from the medical kit. "This is going to hurt."

"Lay it on me," the man grinned, and Arthur began to gently pull the bullet out. He winced, tensing slightly, but no sound escaped his lips as Arthur slowly pulled the metal out of his body. When it was out, Arthur dropped it to the floor and the two of them let out breaths that neither of them noticed they were holding. "See? All a-okay."

Arthur rolled his eyes and dipped a washcloth into the bowl of water, wringing it out, before gently cleaning the man's wound.

"Say, I don't think you ever told me what your name was."

Arthur hesitated for a moment. No, the man didn't need to know about who he really was, even though they were on the same side.

"Alice. Alice Kirkland."

The man grinned, and Arthur felt a chill go down his spine. "I'm Alfred. Lieutenant Alfred Jones, Secret Service." The man winked. "So, uh, you with the Resistance?"

"Yes." Arthur nodded, rinsing the washcloth and returning to cleaning the wound gently to distract himself from Alfred's rather charming grin. "I'm here to protect someone."

"Would that be little Marie?" Alfred asked, and Arthur looked up at him, surprised. "Hey, she told me her father's name was Francis. He helped me escape from Paris."

"Oh, Francis." Arthur sighed. "Where is he now? Did he tell you when he'd go see Marie?"

"Well, we were separated just a few miles away when we neared a checkpoint. We didn't really have a chance to talk properly." Alfred looked apologetic, and Arthur sighed.

"Oh, well. Marie misses her father very much. Her mother, Jeanne, as well." Alfred had a strange look on his face—was that relief? No, it couldn't have been—but Arthur let it be. "Well, I'm going to need your leg raised. If you please…?"

"Don't mind if I do," Alfred chuckled, lifting his leg as Arthur wrapped bandages around his thigh. After securing it, he patted it gently, and Alfred smiled up at him. "Thanks a lot, pretty nurse." He winked, and Arthur felt his face warm up again.

"Wh-whatever," he stuttered, turning to face away from Alfred. "You're going to have to stay here for the time being until your leg heals. When it does, I'll have someone help you escape to England."

"Want to come with me?" Alfred asked, and Arthur looked at him, his blush intensifying. "'Cause, don't you miss home?" he asked, and Arthur looked down at his hands holding the medical kit.

"Oh, if you only knew," Arthur sighed. "I wish every day this war would end already, so that I can go home to my brothers and fix things together again."

"Oh, did something happen before the war began?" Alfred asked, and Arthur gently shook his head.

"Way before the war began, I'm afraid. Only now did we realise how much we care for each other, but at any moment we might lose one of us. I can't bear thinking what I would do if that ever happened."

Alfred nodded gravely. "I know that feeling. Didn't exactly leave on good terms with my Pop." Arthur looked at him, and he shook his head. "Ah, shucks. Let's stop with the sad stuff, alright?" slowly, Arthur nodded. "And let's think of some cover story for me for the time being, 'kay?"

* * *

 _Álice_  ended up being  _Fritz_ 's wife.

Well, in Alfred's words, it was more of, "Fritz's absolutely smitten and crazy-mad-for-him wife who doted on him day and night and showered him with love and affection. Oh, and they kiss a lot."

Arthur didn't know whether he  _hated_ it or he absolutely  _loved_  it.

* * *

" _Álice_ ,  _mon amour, donne-moi un peu de lait?_ " Alfred sweetly asked one time, loudly enough to be heard by a passing cart full of giggling young ladies. Arthur glared at him, but reluctantly handed him a glass of the offending drink, mumbling, " _Bien sûr, mon amour_."

Small things like this kept on going, Alfred and Arthur exchanging terms of endearment as Alfred drove Arthur  _wild_  with his easygoing attitude and coarse movements—he sat at the table with his feet on it, leaning back on the chair fully as he gestured at his mouth for Arthur to spoon-feed him, cooing at him in French as he did so.

Oh, how Arthur  _regretted_  teaching the bloody bastard how to speak the damned language.

Fuck his fast-learning language skills, too. Arthur spent far too long studying French, and it only took the American two weeks to speak it fairly freely.

Marie, dear sweet Marie, loved Alfred's presence, though. He made her laugh and cared for her dearly like her father did, and vaguely, Arthur wondered if this is what it was like to have a family. A warm feeling tickled Arthur's heart whenever he saw Marie and Alfred together, laughing in the warm French countryside sunlight, running through bright yellow wheat fields hand in hand.

He understood how Francis felt. It was wonderful—well, sans the housewife part.

One day, however, Alfred grew bold.

" _Álice_ ,  _donnez-moi un baiser._ " He said, and Arthur gaped at him. He merely grinned. " _Vas-y! Ne me faites pas attendre!_ " he pointed at his lips, grinning, and blushing madly, Arthur leaned in to give him a kiss.

It felt  _wonderful_ , but Arthur would die first before he'd tell Alfred something like that.

Months passed and soon Alfred's leg had completely healed. By that time, Arthur had grown used to the man's presence in his life (he had finally managed to force the man into helping out with the chores) and their kisses had grown to an almost comfortable routine.

" _Álice,_ " Alfred spoke up, and without even prompting, Arthur leaned up to give the man a kiss. The smile he got for that was so heart warming; Arthur felt butterflies flitting around in his stomach every time he saw it.

They lived in bliss together in the relatively safe countryside of occupied France, until suddenly, one evening, soldiers came knocking on their door.

" _Álice, aller prendre Marie au lit._ " Alfred said, as men filed into their little home. Hurriedly, Arthur did as he was told, hiding the little girl in her room—after passing his room, and then Alfred's room (well, of  _course_  they slept in separate rooms, they were only pretend lovers… something Arthur couldn't truly convince himself fully of)—and tucking her safely away, before taking out a few guns and hiding them under his skirt in holsters bound to his thighs. When he came back downstairs, he saw Alfred serving two soldiers glasses of water, before silently sitting down at the head of the table.

Arthur walked up to his side, and like they had always been doing it, slid his hand over the man's shoulder and gently held it. Had Alfred not been in such a delicate situation, he would have laughed and maybe teased Arthur about it, but not now. Not here.

" _Bonjour, les hommes bons. Qu'est-ce qui vous amène chez moi?_ " Alfred asked, his French now perfected in the months he had spent with Arthur and Marie. " _J'espère que je peux être à votre service_."

" _Oui_." One of the soldiers said, before pulling out a gun, alarming both Arthur and Alfred. The other one suddenly stood up and grabbed Arthur's wrists, yanking him away from Alfred, making him cry out in both alarm and pain as he was slammed against the wall of the dining hall, before being pulled tightly against the other shoulder's torso, the man's arm around under his chin, steadily applying pressure to his neck. Alarmed, Alfred stood up, drawing his own gun and pointing it at the soldier pointing a gun at him, when the other one pointed his gun at Arthur's temple instead. Alfred's eyes widened and he hesitated. The soldier smirked.

"You are Alfred Jones, am I correct?" he asked, his English thick with his German accent. "We have been looking for you, for a very,  _very_  long time."

"What do you want?" Alfred demanded, holding his stance, still determinedly pointing his gun at the man.

"It has come to our attention that you have certain classified information on your person. I would like to have them back." The man said, his tone level, but saturated with the promise of violence if he didn't have his way.

"I burned them," Alfred smirked, gesturing at his head with his left hand. "It's all in here, and you ain't going to get them."

The man's face tightened, and he brought his gun closer to Alfred's forehead.

"Then you shall recover them for me." he slammed down a pile of blank papers onto the table, before pulling a pen out of his coat pocket.

"Or else what? I'm armed too, you know."

The man smirked, before lowering his gun. Alfred eyed him warily, as he began to walk slowly towards Arthur. The ball dropped and Alfred realised what the man was about to do.

"H-hey, wait—" he began, lowering his gun.

"Your  _wife_  is very beautiful," the man commented, walking up to Arthur, giving him an appraising look up and down. "Yes, very beautiful." He approached Arthur, standing tall next to the soldier holding him still, before running two fingers down his cheek. The blonde bristled, and the soldier's grin widened. "Alfred Jones, is she  _really_  your wife? Perhaps, your young lover?" he asked, twirling his fingers in Arthur's blonde wig. "She looks so very pure. Still untouched."

Without warning, he ran his palm up the front of Arthur's thigh, from his knee to the crevice of his groin, completely missing the weapons concealed underneath, but barely brushing Arthur's crotch. Arthur let out a yelp of discomfort and the man chuckled darkly.

"How would you like it if  _we_  took her instead, while you watch?" he asked, "And then maybe we'll kill her, right in front of you." The man paused, "Ah, and then there is the little girl."

Alfred growled at him, and he laughed, a dark chilling laugh.

"Yes, that would be spectacular.  _Ai-je raison, ma chère_?" he asked Arthur, taking the blonde's chin between his index finger and thumb. " _Quel est votre nom, belle_?"

Arthur shot Alfred a worried glance, and the American could only look on helplessly.

" _Répondez-moi_." The man demanded, and Arthur whimpered slightly for show.

" _A- Álice, monsieur._ " He replied, averting his eyes from the man.

" _Álice._ " The man repeated, like he tasted the name on his tongue. " _Je l'aime_."

" _M-monsieur, s'il vous plaît._ " Arthur spoke up in a pleading tone. " _Ne pas lui faire de mal, s'il vous plaît_."

" _Oh?_ " the man smirked. " _Me convaincre de ne pas_." His soldier let go of Arthur, and at once, Alfred understood what Arthur was trying to do.

Averting his eyes (all for show, as he winked secretly at Alfred, while the two men surrounding Arthur were far too transfixed on what his hands were going to do) he lowered his hands and ran them up his legs, before bending down slightly to ruck up his skirt by putting his hands on his legs under them, before sliding slowly up, up his stockings—

His hands curled around the handles of his hidden guns.

"Alfred, now!" he yelled, pulling the both of them out. Alfred immediately sprang into action, shooting the man standing in front of Arthur, as Arthur turned around to dispose of the man behind him. Outside, the din of the alarmed soldiers told them they were coming, and the two of them ducked behind the backrest of the sofa that was facing the front door. The back-up of the two officers arrived—there were only five of them, a handful, and Alfred and Arthur shared looks, before standing up from where they were hiding, revealing themselves, before taking them all out before they could even react.

"Go grab Marie!" Alfred ordered. "Let's get out of here!"

Arthur nodded, running up the stairs as Alfred ran outside.

"Marie, Marie!" he called, and the little girl ran out of her room, dragging after her three bags of clothes and belongings—one for her, one for Arthur, and the other one for Alfred. "Let's go!" he said, tucking his guns back in his holsters and helping the little girl carry the bags downstairs. Silently, he was thankful for telling her to get ready to run away.

"Come on, come on!" Alfred's voice called them from outside. "In the car!"

Arthur's eyes widened to find outside, Alfred had started up the car the soldiers had brought with them. Hurriedly, he and Marie packed the bags in the trunk, before getting into the car.

"Arthur!" Marie let out a little squeal before she settled in her seat at the back, and alarmed, Arthur looked back to see several guns, rifles and ammunition packed into the backseat next to her.

"Alfred," he gasped, and the man stepped on the gas, driving quickly away. "What on Earth are you thinking, putting all my guns in the car?"

"Better to be safe than sorry," Alfred simply said, and Arthur fell silent. He couldn't argue with that.

* * *

They drove on in silence, passing by hills and silent farms as they shot through the night. Eventually Marie had fallen asleep in her seat behind them, her head rested against Alfred's coat that served as a pillow.

"Alfred, I think it's alright for you to stop for a while," Arthur spoke up, looking at the clock on the dashboard. "It's almost midnight. I doubt anyone will be up at this hour, especially here, where it's so rural."

"Okay," Alfred nodded, pulling up into a small clearing in the forest, before leaning back, turning to look at Arthur. "So, what was that all about back there, hmm?"

"Oh, it's nothing, really," Arthur stuttered, blushing. "Just a little trick I thought of." He looked away, averting his eyes from Alfred's piercing gaze.

"No, I mean, what was  _that_  all about, Arthur?" he suddenly said, and Arthur's eyes widened.

"… You knew."

"All this time, babe." Alfred winked, grinning. "Ever since day 1."

Arthur gaped at him. "… So, you know, I'm not…" he gestured at his dress, and Alfred nodded, snickering.

"At first I didn't really want to believe it," he said, "But then there was this one time when I was talking to Marie about it, and well, she just let it slip." Arthur gaped at him in shock. "Don't tell her I told you," he said quickly, "She thinks you'll hate her if you found out."

"W-well, I can't ever find it in myself to ever hate her," Arthur replied, "But all this time… why didn't you tell me?"

"I wouldn't have been able to kiss you so freely." Alfred said, suddenly serious. He took his hands off the wheel of the car and held Arthur's smaller hands in his. "I gotta say, you make a really pretty woman. Those Nazis weren't lying, you know."

Arthur blushed, and Alfred chuckled. "And that blushing you do, it's adorable."

"S-shut it, git." Arthur stuttered, and the blonde American leaned in, touching their foreheads together.

"Arthur," he gently said, " _Donnez-moi un baiser_." He looked into Arthur's eyes, and Arthur couldn't find the strength in himself to look away. A soft smile crossed Alfred's face. " _Ne me faites pas attendre_."

Arthur laughed softly, breathlessly, and leant in to press their lips together. Almost immediately they melted into each other, their hands finding each other, and soon Alfred's hands wandered up Arthur's arms to tangle in his long hair. With a gentle tug, the wig fell down, revealing to Alfred Arthur's messy sandy blonde hair.

He stroked Arthur's hair gently, relishing in its soft texture as they kissed and kissed again, and before long, their tongues tangled together and they were mentally mapping each other's mouths.

The soft groan of Marie forced them out of their kissing, the both of them pulling apart lighting-fast, panting slightly due to lack of air. Frozen in place, the both of them cautiously watched the little girl sleeping at the back of the car. When Marie turned slightly, mumbling softly, they let out a breath the both of them didn't realise they were holding, and they looked at each other.

A grin broke out on Alfred's face, and Arthur followed suit, softly chuckling.

"Hey, we've kissed loads of times before," Alfred spoke up, "But there was something in there that wasn't there before."

"Oh, what can it be, I wonder?" Arthur chuckled, gently kissing Alfred again, before pulling away. "What was in there that wasn't there before?"

"Oh, I think I know," Alfred chuckled. "It's love, babe."

Laughing softly, Arthur gently butted his head against Alfred's.

"Yes, I suppose so," he replied. "I love you."

"I love you too, Arthur."


	7. Part of Your World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GENRE: Romance, Action  
> RATING: M  
> WARNINGS: Breaking out my naughty today. Sex, assassins, murder, lots of swearing.  
> PAIRING/S: USUK, Alfred/Arthur(America/England)
> 
>  
> 
> Arthur is an assassin that falls in love with Alfred, a office worker, and wants quits on the assassin business—but Sloan won’t let him. Crossover with the movie Wanted.

Alfred rested his head on his hand as he tried his darnedest to stay awake—the three empty Styrofoam cups sitting at his table proof of his recent endeavour. Sadly, it was failing, as his blue eyes began to droop, and his head began to nod—

Three knocks on his window, and he was wide awake. A wide smile spread across his face and he scrambled to get to the window, throwing it open to find someone dressed in a form-fitting black suit smiling at him, crouched on top of the compressor of his office's room, beautiful bright green eyes glimmering in the light coming up to them from the streets below.

"Artie!" Alfred smiled brightly, letting the man climb into his office through the window. Closing the window after the man had entered, he shut the blinds, and as soon as he turned around, his lover kissed him soundly. He smiled into the kiss and he kissed back, wrapping his arms around the man's waist, snugly pulling him up close right against him.

They parted after a minute of just kissing, just touching each other, and they smiled at each other.

"Hello, Alfred," the blonde man smiled sweetly. "I've missed you."

"Missed you too, babe," Alfred smiled, rubbing his cheek against his. "Arthur, where have you been?"

"Monaco." Arthur replied, and the two looked at each other, before bursting out in laughter. "Yes, yes, I know, I'm an assassin and I had a hit in Monaco. How very cliché, yes."

"Nah, it's pretty cool," Alfred assured him, winking, before kissing him again. "Do you have a hit again today?"

"No, not for another two days, I think," Arthur replied, "Plenty of time for a date."

"Maybe even dinner," Alfred grinned, "Maybe even bed."

"Oh, naughty." Arthur chuckled, batting Alfred's chest lightly.

"I don't know, man," the taller blonde grinned, waggling his eyebrows at Arthur. "I've missed you pretty badly. My sperm count's risen."

"You filthy man," Arthur laughed, wriggling out of Alfred's grasp to inspect his desk. "I see you've been waiting for me." He smirked, glancing at the empty cups of coffee.

"'Course." Alfred replied, walking up behind Arthur, before wrapping his arms around the smaller man's waist, pressing up tightly behind him. Arthur's eyes widened and a grin spread across his face.

"… Alfred." He half-purred, half-chuckled, grinding his hips upwards, rubbing his arse against the taller man's rather bulging excitement, earning him a hiss from the man towering over him. "I see you've rather missed me." He turned his head to smirk sexily up at the man.

"Like I said," Alfred growled in his ear, sending bolts of pleasure up his spine. "Missed you lots. All two weeks, without you, I would've gone  _crazy_  if you were gone any longer."

"'M sorry, love," Arthur mumbled, leaning up to kiss him, drawing his tongue over the man's, as they melted into each other's kisses, eating up each and every sound they made as they kissed. "Well, then," Arthur panted, after they broke apart. "I think it's about time we left, don't you think?"

Alfred nodded hurriedly, packing up his things as fast as he could as Arthur climbed out the window again. "I'll see you at the car, love." He gave Alfred a mock salute, before jumping down. The blonde man quickly zipped up his bag (but not without checking his things: wallet, keys to the apartment, his USB, phone, the papers he needed to go over, condoms and lube. Check, everything's in there) and ran out the door.

He nearly ran into his boss, who gave him an odd look, and he grinned apologetically.

"Sorry 'bout that, Mr. Sullivan," he quickly apologised, giving the man a mock salute. "I'm going home now. See you Monday!"

"Yes, yes. Thanks for doing overtime, Jones." His boss nodded, and he ran off, getting into the elevator, slumping against the wall after poking the button to the ground floor.

"I have to admit, your boss, that Brandon Sullivan? Rather dashing, that man." Arthur suddenly spoke up, and Alfred nearly jumped out of his skin when he finally noticed his lover leaning against the opposite wall, grinning. "I don't mind having a piece of him, really."

"Hey, hey. I thought  _I_  was your man." Alfred pouted, but he chuckled. He knew how much Arthur loved him, he trusted Arthur enough to not go for anyone else but him.

"Oh, love, just because I'm in a man's home doesn't mean I can't look out the window and smell the flowers." Arthur chuckled, before pulling Alfred in for a kiss, pressing the button for the ground floor for a long time. Alfred pulled away and eyed Arthur's hand pressing the button curiously.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"It's a safety feature built-in for all elevators," Arthur replied, letting go of the button after a while. "When you press it for a long time, it'll just go straight to that floor, without stopping at other stops on the way."

"Cool," Alfred grinned, and Arthur scoffed.

"It's a feature they made for the police. Learnt it from an officer I had to sleep with to get something." Arthur casually inspected his nails, but Alfred knew better. That was Arthur's way of showing he was uncomfortable with the subject and didn't want to talk about it.

Frowning, he pulled Arthur close for a hug, all the way until the bell pinged, signalling their arrival at the ground floor.

"Your chariot awaits, babe." He grinned at Arthur, before leading him out of the building to the parking lot, where they quickly got into his car.

* * *

"O-oh,  _yes_!" Arthur gasped, back arching perfectly towards Alfred as the man's fingers brushed his prostrate yet again, his legs bucking wildly as he squirmed under Alfred. "D-do it again—oh!"

Alfred did as he was told, getting more and more aroused as he fingered Arthur stupid, until he was writhing, pleading wordlessly as his hands fisted in the sheets so hard his knuckles were white.

"Shh, shh, I got this." Alfred reassured him, rolling on a condom before slowly pushing in, a loud guttural moan tearing out from Arthur's throat as Alfred sheathed himself fully in, the assassin bucking up, trying to push Alfred further in more, needing  _more_ , to be filled until he was oh, so  _full_ —

Arthur adjusted quickly and Alfred was grinning when he began to move. The lewd sounds of skin slapping skin soon filled the room, accompanied with the sound of their panting and the bed creaking as Alfred moved in and out and in and out and  _in_ —

"Ah!" Arthur gasped, undulating as pure ecstasy took over him, as Alfred assaulted his prostrate, sending his mind reeling, his vision whiting out as pleasure took over him, washing over him, hitting him hard like a tsunami.

Soon, sounds tumbled from Arthur's lips like a cascade of falling rocks, "Ah, ah, oh, anh, nnh, ah, ah,  _Alfred_ —oh! Ah,  _ah!_ "

Without warning, he suddenly came, spilling his load onto his and Alfred's stomach, warm white sticky liquid mixing with their sweat.

The feeling of Arthur clenching tightly around him was too much to bear and Alfred soon followed, groaning in pleasure as he rode out his orgasm until he couldn't move any more. Panting, he collapsed on top of Arthur, snuggling close to his lover, a contented smile on his face.

"H-hey, git, aren't you going to clean us up?" Arthur asked him, but it was obvious in his tone that he was just as tired as Alfred was.

"Tomorrow," Alfred mumbled into Arthur's shoulder. "Sleep."

Arthur smiled sleepily and fell asleep in Alfred's arms.

* * *

In the morning, they had lazy morning sex, long, slow, languorous and loving, and when they were sated, together they stumbled into the bathroom to clean up together.

After fifteen minutes—an intense make-out session in the bath and minimal washing—they headed into Alfred's tiny kitchen for breakfast.

"Alfred, I've been thinking about something lately," Arthur spoke up, and Alfred nodded to let the assassin know he was listening. "About… the Fraternity."

Alfred looked up at him from his Nutella-lathered toast, eyes widening. Arthur had never ever talked to him about his job as an assassin. "… Artie, did something happen?"

"I want out," Arthur said, frowning, as he looked up at Alfred. "I want to stop being an assassin."

"Artie, if this has something to do with what I told you long ago about leaving your job, I—look, I wasn't thinking straight back then and I got scared when you told me. Now I'm okay with it, well, okay, maybe not  _okay_ -okay with it, but you don't have to—"

Arthur had pressed his honey-coated fingertip to Alfred's lips, hushing him, smiling sadly. "Love, you were beginning to ramble. And it's not about that." He shrugged, "Well, not _completely_  about that."

"What happened, Arthur?" Alfred asked, as his lover lowered his hand with a sigh, and held Arthur's other hand, squeezing it supportively.

"Well, I've noticed lately that our targets aren't like the ones we use to hit," Arthur explained, licking his finger clean. "It's almost like as if Sloan's just making up the targets, so that getting rid of them would benefit him."

"How the  _hell_  did you come up with  _that_  idea?" Alfred asked, "Isn't this Sloan guy the one who pulled you out of the streets, and well, made you like that?"

"While having the skill set of a super assassin is absolutely helpful, Alfred," Arthur rolled his eyes, "I'm not entirely grateful of the man I'd follow him blindly like sheep to their shepherd. They kicked my arse rather hard when they were training me, Alfred, dragged my through hell and back, until I got everything right, until I was what they were—more weapon than human."

"Until you met me, that is." Alfred grinned, and Arthur nodded, smiling, the hint of a blush staining his pale cheeks.

"And then I started thinking," he continued, pushing his toast around on his plate with the spreading knife. "About what you said about my job—ah," he held up his hand to silence Alfred, who had started to talk, "No, don't think this is entirely your doing, Alfred. I met one of the members that had deferred… rather violently. His name is Cross."

"… Cross." Alfred echoed, and Arthur nodded.

"He had this idea going around that the Loom was being manipulated," he said, "Him and his associate Pekwarski had been gathering information regarding Sloan's influence on the Loom." He gripped Alfred's hand with his slightly shaking ones. "It seems that what I believed was true too."

"So, you want out?" Alfred asked.

Arthur nodded, looking up at Alfred, "As silly as it sounds, I want to be a part of your world, Alfred… Back to safety, comfort," his green eyes locked with Alfred's, "To love."

A warm smile spread across Alfred's face and gently, he pulled Arthur in for a kiss.

"How will you do it?" He asked, after pulling away, gently stroking Arthur's sandy blonde hair.

"I haven't the faintest idea," Arthur laughed sadly. "But now with you there, knowing about it, I'm absolutely  _itching_ to get it over with."

* * *

"You want to defer?" Sloan asked, resting his chin on his intertwined fingers, peering at Arthur, who was standing across him, across his beautiful mahogany desk in the hold of the Fraternity. "Why would you do that, Arthur?" he asked, his expression neutral, making it difficult for Arthur to be able to tell what the man was thinking.

"I've…" Arthur took a shaky breath. "I've been compromised, I'm afraid." He replied, his tone firm and even, but inside him the entirety of his mind was screaming, tumultuous thoughts crashing around in waves of fear, apprehension, worry, uncertainty,  _what about Alfred_.

"Compromised." Sloan repeated, and Arthur nodded, gulping silently. "… I see."

Arthur blinked at him, and he looked right back at him.

"You're free to go." Sloan said after a moment, gesturing at the door.

"… I am?" Arthur asked, uneasy, wary. Sloan was  _never_  this lenient. Ever.

Cross had warned him about the possibility that Sloan had wanted him killed, so he had come prepared, but he was so frightened he wasn't sure if he could find it in himself if he could fight back anyone that came after him.

He turned on his heel and walked out. As the door shut behind him, Sloan's neutral expression broke into a wide smirk.

"Wesley." He called, and a brunette walked into the room, bright blue eyes bright and filled with anticipation. He pulled back a drawer on his desk as Wesley walked up to his desk.

"Cross?" he asked, expectant, and Sloan shook his head.

"Not yet, boy." He pulled out a piece of paper, with a scrap of cloth from the Loom on it, the name on it already decoded and written in the damning black ink of the marker used to write it down. "He's Cross's ally, though."

Wesley scowled at him, but took the paper. "… Arthur Kirkland? But he's a member of the Fraternity."

"Not anymore." Sloan replied, "He just left a moment ago. Go."

Wesley looked at him, his expression wavering, borderline  _unsure_ , but he nodded, turning on his heel and walking out the door just like Arthur had minutes ago.

* * *

_They've let me go, but I'm pretty sure there are strings attached. Come look for me, please. –AK_

Arthur sent the text message to Alfred, frowning, before kissing the screen of the smart phone, sighing.

If someone were to get to him now, before Alfred got to him; that was probably the last thing he would be able to say to Alfred. Swallowing, he sent another message.

_And I just want you to know I love you. –AK_

_Babe, when i get ther, im going to ask you to marry me_

Arthur's eyes widened, and his hand shot up to his mouth in shock. Alfred was going to…

Happiness welling up in his chest, he sent back a reply.

_When you do ask me that, know that I'll say yes. Even if I say no, I mean yes. –AK_

_That sounds so much like you_

Arthur would have smiled, laughed lightly, even, but he suddenly felt someone following him. Shoving his phone into his pocket, adrenaline flowed through his blood, his senses sharpening as his pupils dilated. His footsteps grew jumpy and he clenched and unclenched his fists, growing increasingly aware of the presence of someone following after him. He ducked into an alley, and whoever it was followed him in.

The sharp sound of a foot crunching against a fallen leaf—and Arthur turned, guns ablaze, bullets sharply curving to hit whomever it was hiding behind the trash can. He heard someone sharply swear, and suddenly bullets went flying at him. Quickly, he ducked behind a trash can, waiting for the shooting to stop.

When it did, he sprung out from behind the trash can, super-fast reflexes and movement kicking in—fruits from years of training with the Fraternity—as he rapidly approached his assailant (for that was what he specialised in—he was faster than the other assassins, making him perfect for direct assault), before pressing his gun to the man's head before he could do anything else.

"Tell me why you're trying to kill me." Arthur demanded, and the assassin looked up. Arthur faltered slightly. "… Hey, you're the new guy. Wesley."

"That's right, fucker," Wesley snarled, before wrestling Arthur's gun out of his hands, tackling him to the ground. "Your name came out on the Loom."

Arthur's eyes widened and he struggled to gain the upper hand, but Wesley threw his gun aside and wrapped his hands around Arthur's throat, and  _squeezing_  tightly with a grip like iron.

Arthur let out a choked, breathless gasp as the pain registered, and he scratched at Wesley's arms, squirming desperately as air started to leave him.

"You know, it's a pretty stupid idea to have believed whatever shit Cross would have probably told you," Wesley growled at him, kneeling on Arthur's hands to keep him still. "Then you'd never be in this mess—"

"Arthur!" Alfred's voice rang from the end of the alleyway, making both assassins jolt at the sudden intruder. "Will you marry me?" the blonde man yelled, as he ran into the alleyway. Arthur's eyes widened upon seeing the gun in Alfred's hands.

He tried to call for Alfred,  _go away, this is a Fraternity assassin killing me_ , but Wesley's fingers tightened around his throat more, making him choke on his words.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, fucker?" Wesley demanded, eyeing the gun he had thrown aside ruefully.

"I'm trying to fucking save my fiancé, asshole." Alfred replied, "Why the fuck do you think he left your goddamned Fraternity in the first place?"

Wesley hesitated, looking down at Arthur, who was squirming around trying to get away from him. He got up, wary, and Arthur choked loudly, gulping in breaths of air desperately, sitting up. Alfred rushed to his side, helping him, letting him rest his head on his shoulders.

He looked up to see Wesley eyeing the both of them warily.

"For the love of—can't you fucking see he's fucking out of air, dumbfuck?"

"Hey!" Wesley glared at him, but Arthur held up his hand.

"I'm… not working… for bloody Cross." Arthur panted, "Whoever told  _you_  that?" he asked, and Wesley looked unsure.

"… Sloan did." He said, and Arthur clicked his tongue. Unsure, Wesley picked up his gun and held it awkwardly at his side.

"Bloody git doesn't know how to tell the sodding truth," Arthur shook his head. "Look, I left because I want out. That's it." He gestured at Alfred. "I'm going to marry this man and we are going to live together and grow old together. That is all."

Wesley bit his lip.

Arthur chuckled dryly. "Or are you going to be a sweet little sheep that follows Sloan's heels everywhere he goes?" Wesley's face contorted into anger, and Arthur only glared back, effectively silencing the protest that had begun to form on Wesley's lips. "Will you leave us bloody well alone?"

"… You're not working for Cross."

"I think we've just established that," Alfred spoke up, and Arthur looked at him in surprise. The hands that held him were shaking as they gripped his forearms like he was afraid that if he'd let go Arthur would disappear.

Wesley bit his lip, before looking away.

"… Okay, fine. But the moment I hear something linking you to Cross, I'll kill you and you." He gestured at the both of them, punctuating his words with a point of his gun. "Don't think I'll be squeamish about getting rid of a civilian." He pointed his gun at Alfred. "You're just as involved in this now as he is. Got it?"

"Crystal clear." Alfred smirked, and Wesley eyed them one last time, before turning on his heel to leave.

"Wesley, wait." Arthur spoke up. The man stopped walking, but he didn't look back at them. "… What will you tell Sloan?"

"… I killed you." He replied, "And I killed your man too."

A relieved smile crossed Arthur's face, and he sighed, leaning back into Alfred's torso.

" _Thank_ you, Wesley Gibson." He breathed, and the man flinched visibly. "… I pray you find what you're looking for soon."

"… Whatever." Wesley dismissed them, before walking away. Alfred and Arthur looked at each other, and the taller blonde grinned down at Arthur shakily, the shaking his hands subsiding as they slid down Arthur's arms.

"So, what was that about being part of my world?" he asked, and Arthur laughed, relief washing over him like a wave of calm.

"Yes, you git." He chuckled, pulling Alfred in for a kiss, gentle and loving, "I'll be in it now, for every single day."

"Till death do us part, babe."

"Till death do us part."


	8. Can You Feel the Love Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GENRE: Romance, Drama, Humour  
> RATING: T  
> WARNINGS: Cheesiness AGAIN, musicians, stage drama, swearing, drinking, mentions of crime rings, McFassy pairings.  
> PAIRING/S: USUK, Alfred/Arthur(America/England); McFassy, Michael Fassbender/James McAvoy (Brandon Sullivan/Charles Xavier)
> 
> Alfred is a waiter in a high-class restaurant with high hopes of making it big who’s in love with one of its regular musicians. Arthur is a musician playing in a high-class restaurant who’s in love with a clumsy waiter that had spilled expensive champagne on his only good suit. One night, circumstance brings them together. Crossover with the Club Holic series.

The Club Holic was a fine little jewel located at the end of uptown New York, a top-class restaurant for the rich and famous, famed for its mysterious charm and charisma, much like its namesake. Named after the most infamous crime group in the Underworld (people liked speculating that its owner was either an avid fan of its leader Sullivan or if he was the man himself; unfortunately for the avid wealthy followers of the elusive Club, the truth was the former) it was one of the most sought-for restaurants in the socialite circles of New York and celebrities were known to frequent the 5-star restaurant.

Alfred Jones was part of it all, the mysterious charm that had skyrocketed the Club Holic to fame like its crime ring counterpart.

Well, at least he'd like to think that, standing awkwardly at the kitchen door to fetch yet another tray of champagne. He eyed it strangely as one of his co-workers handed it to him, flashing him an apologetic smile.

"You look pretty bothered," Elizabeta said, also walking next to him with her own tray of champagne intended for the table next to the one Alfred was going to serve.

"It just that these people drink so much I'm really starting to wonder about their livers. Did you know that alcohol—"

"I really don't want to know, sweetie," Elizabeta cut him off, apologetic pout on her pretty face, "I'm pretty sure you've already told me about this." She chuckled, and Alfred smiled softly.

"Sorry." He mumbled, and she shook her head, chuckling fondly.

"I'd better go now." She said to him, before walking away from him to serve the table her tray was intended for.

Alfred headed to a table with two men sitting at it so close together it looked rather intimate. He carefully kept his glance away from them, but he chanced a look at one of them to see a rather pretty-faced brunette with creamy white skin, plump red lips and strikingly blue eyes. Somehow, the customer must have noticed him, because a sly grin spread across his face and he pulled away from his date and leant close to Alfred, his blue eyes locking onto Alfred's equally blue ones, filled with flirty mirth that had Alfred's cheeks reddening up like a ripe tomato.

"See something you like?" he asked, his voice dripping viscous honey, and Alfred's cheeks flared red.

"N-no, sir," he stuttered, knocking over the elegant tissue holder with shaking hands, and he let out a squeak of alarm, quickly righting the holder. The brunette giggled, and his date glared at Alfred with blue-green-gray eyes that were colder than steel. Alfred swallowed. "S-s-sorry," he apologised, "I-I'll go grab the menu for you." He said, before running away as fast as he could, but not without hearing the posh English accent of the brunette flitting over to his ears like a delicate little butterfly.

"He's adorable," he heard the man coo, "I wouldn't mind having a piece of that."

" _Charles_." His date growled, and the brunette merely giggled.

"Oh, Brandon, do calm yourself down, dear." He said, and at this, Alfred decided he should probably stop listening in and grab those damned menus already. Luckily for him, he found Ludwig standing by the rack where the menus were, giving him a concerned glance.

"H-hey," Alfred stuttered, "Mind serving those two guys over there?" he gestured at the two men over his shoulder with his thumb. Ludwig looked over at the two men, and a knowing grin spread across his face.

"Don't you know that one of them is a regular?" Ludwig asked, patting Alfred's shoulder. "But then again, you were always pretty bad with faces."

"… What?" Alfred blinked.

"I'll handle it," Ludwig chuckled, shaking his head, before pushing past Alfred to head into the kitchen.

"H-hey, they're that way," Alfred spoke up, but Ludwig shook his head.

"Oh, no," he replied, "With Charles Xavier, there is never a need for the menu." Alfred cocked his head. "Should he be asked what he wants, all he is going to say are two words, Alfred: 'Surprise me.'"

Ludwig smiled at Alfred and walked into the kitchen, muttering something along the lines of, "Francis is going to  _love_  this," as he was grinning in a most unnerving way.

Shaking his head, concluding to himself that he'll never,  _ever_  understand how the socialite circles in New York work, Alfred busied himself with walking around the restaurant in case someone needed attention. Seeing none, he made his way over to his usual spot—the pillar not too far from the stage where the live band was playing.

A smile crossed his face, then, his nerves calming down immensely when he looked at the middle of it all—a beautiful black grand piano sat in centre stage, right behind where the singer was supposed to be (oh, he mustn't have arrived yet, Alfred thought to himself,), giving him full view of the sandy blonde-haired man sitting at the piano, long elegant fingers dancing over the keys as he led the band in the music they were playing—some shady, classy jazz that set the mood well along with the dim lights and dark burgundy and mauve curtains, walls and upholstery that matched ebony furniture and crystal glassware.

Alfred sighed, leaning against the pillar, staring at the man on the piano, a dreamy smile crossing his face as he watched the man play elegantly, back perfectly straight and swaying gently to the ebb and flow of the song.

His name was Arthur Kirkland. He was the Club's pianist in the live band. Alfred spilled champagne on him a few weeks ago, and since then, Alfred  _knew_  he was in love.

The problem was, that was most likely  _not_  reciprocated, since he perfectly knew that getting suits dry-cleaned was no cheap business; not to mention they were complete strangers, Arthur was always up there on the stage, and Alfred was always down below him, running around and serving people champagne and tiny servings of food that probably cost more than the uniform he was wearing.

They would never, ever talk, would never get to know each other, despite the fact Alfred knew that it only took a fraction of a second to fall in love. Hard.

Despite it all, Alfred could never get over Arthur, all his attempts on convincing himself that his love would never be returned failing. He was content to watch Arthur from afar, the man never knowing exactly how he truly feels, and that was alright, he guessed, rather than having the man know and confirming what he had been fearing to be true.

Be content with what you have, after all. Alfred was raised to be as such. He himself had been dreaming of making it big as a singer, but right now, this was only as far as he could go.

Make do with what you have, and you'll get what you want in the end, his mother always told him.

* * *

The live band called a break, and Arthur packed up his music sheets, tucking them into the compartment under the seat of the piano, before returning the velvet to where it belonged. Closing the lid, he sighed, before turning his hands, working out the knots that had built up there while he was playing. Stretching slightly he stood up, nodding at the other musicians, before walking to the backstage, where he met up with the second shift pianist, nodding at him, handing him a bottle of water.

"Thanks," Arthur nodded, downing half of the bottle, before wiping his mouth. "Your turn, Roderich," he gestured behind him, and the man stepped past him.

"The singer's arrived," Roderich said, "He says he'll be singing on your shift."

Arthur groaned. "Can't you handle him tonight?"

Roderich gestured out at the main stage. "I'm on." He said, "It's  _your_  turn tonight."

Arthur sighed, nodding in defeat, before the pianist walked out onstage, leaving him behind. Dejectedly, Arthur made his way to the dressing room shared by the other musicians on his shift, plopping down at his seat heavily.

He looked at himself in the mirror, and a tired, baggy-eyed man looked back at him. His body was slumped—the epitome of tiredness, save for his eyes. His eyes were burning green with glee, glimmering with a strange sort of pride in stark contrast to everything else on his body.

He held his cheeks, which had begun to colour, a goofy smile crossing his face.

Alfred had been watching him play tonight again. He was sure of it—the absence of the singer had confirmed it, Alfred wasn't staring at the singer, he was staring at him,  _him,_ scrawny flimsy, prissy bad-tempered Arthur Kirkland, not the airheaded  _Prima Donna_  of their small stage in the Club Holic resto.

He giggled, squirming around in his seat, and when he realised what he was doing, he stopped himself, stifling his sounds of glee by biting down hard on his lower lip.

He was…  _pleased_  Alfred was looking at him. Pleased at the gain of a new admirer, that was all.

Arthur glared at himself in the mirror, scowling.

Oh, who was he kidding? He was giddy, bloody  _thrilled_  Alfred actually had eyes for him, actually paid attention to his music, actually giving Arthur hope for a chance to ask him out on a date.

Arthur could see it now—him and Alfred, holding hands under the table in the Club, drinking champagne together—

Champagne.

Arthur slapped himself on the forehead.

No, no, no. Alfred didn't  _like_  him, he was just probably watching because he had nothing to do, or maybe he was looking at the saxophone player past him, because there was  _no_  way in hell Alfred liked him—he had tossed a glass of champagne on his only good suit, for the love of  _God_.

Obviously not a sign saying, 'hey babe, I just met you, and this is crazy, but here's some champagne, let's go fuck, maybe?'

Honestly, his thoughts need to get a grip. Arthur shook his head. He must have been drunk already, and he hasn't gotten a drop of alcohol in him yet.

"Bloody hell," Arthur swore, before getting up to go talk to the singer about their performance tonight.

* * *

"So, do you think they're fucking yet?" Gilbert asked his brother, elbowing him slightly as they walked out of the kitchen, holding a tray each of steaming crab that made Gilbert's mouth water when he had a whiff of its delicious scent.

"Brother," Ludwig hissed at him as they approached the table, "Your order, sir." He smiled down at the brunette smiling up at him (with those prying eyes, it was odd and he could never ever get used to getting looked at like that). He set down the plates in front of the two men, and pulled himself and his brother away from the table. "Now, you," he glared at Gilbert, "You can't just talk about Alfred and Arthur like that."

"Oh, come on, Lud," Gilbert snickered, "Everyone in the restaurant knows they want to get it on already."

Ludwig shot a glance at his brother, but softened when he saw Gilbert grinning at him.

"Well, yeah, that's true." He nodded, and Gilbert cackled loudly, smacking his little brother on the back.

"That's the way!" Gilbert cackled, "You see, we got a plan, and we're going to need a little help if we're going to get it done."

"… Oh?" Ludwig's eyebrow arched, and Gilbert snickered.

"Yep, and if we can pull it off, we'll be killing two birds with one stone!" Gilbert winked, pointing at the singer that was now coming up onto the stage, the first shift musicians coming back on stage.

Ludwig stared at his brother incredulously, and Gilbert only grinned at him, nodding. "Well?" he asked, and a smile eventually crossed Ludwig's face.

"For once, brother, I actually like what you're thinking."

"Gee, thanks." Gilbert pouted, but there was no bite to his words. "Give this to pretty boy and his date when dessert rolls around." He handed Ludwig a piece of paper. Ludwig took it, eyebrow arched, but nodded anyway, tucking it into the front pocket of his suit jacket.

Grinning, Gilbert pulled his brother into the kitchens. "It's show time."

* * *

Alfred had stopped walking around aimlessly when he saw the first shift musicians get into positions, the regular singer for tonight taking his place in front Arthur. A pout made its way to Alfred's lips, and he turned to see that one of the customers had raised his hand to call his attention. He walked over to them (they weren't sitting that far from the stage, in fact, they were sitting right in front of where the singer was) and his eyes widened to see it was socialite Charles Xaiver waving him over. He gulped, and straightened out his uniform, before presenting himself to the man.

"Yes, sir?" he asked.

Charles smiled at him. "Please go be a dear and get us some champagne." He said, leaning forward close to Alfred.

"R-right away, sir," Alfred nodded, eyeing Arthur from the corner of his eye, who was setting up his music sheets. Frowning slightly he noted Arthur wasn't looking very well, he moved away to fetch what he was asked for, completely missing the smirk Charles had shared with his date.

* * *

Arthur glared at the singer standing in front of him, muttering darkly.

"Bloody bastard thinks he can walk all over us just because he's the bloody singer standing in the bloody front, the sod probably thinks he's got the hardest job, what the bleeding fuck," he growled, pushing up the lid of the piano with more force than necessary. Quietly he whispered his sorry to it, before pulling away the velvet, running his fingers over the keys, sighing.

"Don't you sigh there, little toad," the singer hissed back at him over his shoulder. "You'll do as I say, you understand?"

Arthur rolled his eyes and didn't reply, not desiring to give the man the pleasure of hearing his reply.

He looked down at the crowd to see Alfred emerging from the kitchen, carrying with him a tray with two glasses of champagne on them. A small smile crossed his face when he was reminded of the time he first ever noticed the younger man.

He had sworn so loudly he almost got fired that day, but meeting Alfred made it all worthwhile.

Even if it had basically confirmed that Alfred most likely hated his guts.

His eyes suddenly met Alfred's and a blush spread across his face, before he tore his gaze away from Alfred, staring pointedly at the piano. The singer standing in front of him gave him a judging glance, before nudging him not-at-all-gently. Arthur glared at him and began playing, the band following suit as the singer got ready to do his job.

And that's when it all happened in such a blur, Arthur thought he was dreaming.

* * *

"Ah, Alfred, dear, thank you," Charles smiled as Alfred approached, but the man was looking elsewhere—mainly, at Arthur, still shell-shocked at the fact that his and Arthur's eyes met, and the blonde pianist even fucking  _blushed_  and looked away. He was feeling too giddy to even register the foot that was so blatantly out there to get him, and of course—

He tripped over Charles' date's foot, sending him crashing forward towards the stage.

Time seemed to slow down as he watched with despair the two glasses of champagne flew into the air. Arthur's hands slammed down onto the piano's keys, jarring the music to a complete stop, and the singer turned to yell at him, when he noticed the glasses of champagne headed for him. His eyes widened—

Splash. Two glasses full of expensive Salon 1995 champagne suddenly decorated the man's no doubt expensive coat.

Alfred let out a whimper. "… Whoops."

The singer went absolutely  _livid_ , turning to scream at Arthur.

"You! You made your little boyfriend do this!" he accused, pointing at Arthur, who gaped at him, surprised. "You little bitch!"

"Hey!" Alfred cried out, getting up quickly, grabbing the man by his collar. "Don't you even fucking dare!"

"Let go of me, you little shit!" the singer yelled at him, and that's when Alfred's vision blurred out. He came to again when he heard Arthur screaming his name. When his eyes focused again, they widened to see that he had punched the singer.

"Oh, shit, man, I'm so sorry—" he began, but the singer shrugged him off.

"Sorry?" he snarled, "Well, you can be sorry about this! I quit!"

He pushed Alfred off roughly and stormed out of the restaurant, leaving behind the entire place in absolute silence.

"… We have no act," Roderich spoke up, emerging from backstage. "We have no act!"

"Yes, we do." Gilbert spoke up, grinning at Alfred, who gaped at him. "You've wanted to make it big, right? Now's probably the time to do it."

Alfred looked around, and his eyes met Arthur's. The blonde pianist blushed and gestured at the mike stand. "… Please." He said shyly, looking away from him.

Alfred felt himself blushing as well, before tentatively standing at where the singer had used to be. Around him he heard the customers talking to each other in hush whispers, and he felt nervousness take him over.

"… Don't worry," Arthur's voice floated over to him reassuringly, "I'm sure you'll do fine." Alfred turned his head to look at Arthur, who offered him a small smile. "Break a leg."

Alfred glanced at the title of the piece Arthur was going to play,  _Can You Feel the Love Tonight_. His blush returned with a vengeance, and he tore his eyes away from Arthur to look at the audience.

"Uh, hi." He said intelligently, and he mentally kicked himself. "I'll be the understudy tonight, I guess." He looked back at Arthur, who smiled at him a little wider, before he started playing the introduction. The band followed suit, albeit a little unsure, and Alfred took a deep breath.

" _There's a calm surrender to the rush of day, when the heat of the rolling world can be turned away_ ," he sang, his voice a little shaky as he gripped the microphone stand, his knuckles turning white as he held it. " _An enchanted moment, and it sees me through, it's enough for this restless warrior just to be with you_." He spared a glance at Arthur, who was smiling as he played, looking at Alfred with a soft expression that gave him the courage to amp up the power of his voice.

" _And can you feel the love tonight_?" Alfred began to smile, confidence growing as he spotted the kitchen staff standing outside the kitchen doors, smiling up at him. " _It is where we are_ ," he turned slightly to see Charles leaning against his date, who was slightly smiling as well, his arm around Charles' shoulders.

" _It's enough for this wide-eyed wanderer, that we got this far_ ," his voice grew in power, and he found himself grinning as he saw all the patrons of the restaurant looking up at him, enthralled with his voice. " _And can you feel the love tonight, how it's laid to rest_?"

Behind him, he didn't realise Roderich was sitting onto the seat of the piano, taking over for Arthur, smiling softly at the man, who stared at him incredulously. He merely gestured for him to join Alfred as he pushed Arthur gently towards the man on stage.

" _It's enough to make kings and vagabonds believe the very best._ " Alfred sang, and his eyes widened when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Arthur standing next to him, a blush on his face, trying in vain to look anywhere but at Alfred.

" _There's a time for everyone if they only learn_ ," Arthur sang shyly into the microphone, sidling against Alfred, pressing close to him. " _That the twisting kaleidoscope moves us all in turn_."

Alfred smiled down at Arthur, who turned his head away, blush intensifying.

" _There's a rhyme and reason to the wild outdoors_ ," Alfred turned Arthur's head gently to face him by taking the man's chin in his hand. " _When the heart of this star-crossed voyager beats in time with yours_."

" _And can you feel the love tonight_ ," they sang together, " _It is where we are_."

" _It's enough for this wide-eyed wanderer_ ," Arthur continued, " _That we got this far_."

" _And can you feel the love tonight,_ " Alfred sang, his voice rising to a crescendo as his voice power swelled, reverberating throughout the restaurant. " _How it's laid to rest_."

" _It's enough to make kings and vagabonds_ ," Arthur sang, smiling softly in awe of Alfred's voice.

" _Believe the very best_." They sang together, harmonising as the song died down.

There was silence at first, but Charles was the first one to clap, a small smile on his face as everyone else soon followed. The restaurant thundered with applause and whistles, and Alfred bowed, smiling shyly as he humbly accepted the approval of his audience. Arthur was also clapping, gently smiling at Alfred, and suddenly Roderich got up from the piano seat and walked up to the microphone.

"Alfred Jones, ladies and gentlemen," he announced, "Our new regular singer."

"O-oh my God," Alfred breathed, and Roderich smiled at him.

"And all this time, we've been enduring that asshole when we could have had you," Arthur chuckled, shaking his head. "You're amazing, Alfred."

"Aw, shucks, I—" Alfred smiled bashfully, scratching the back of his head. "That's not really, uh…" he blushed, and Arthur chuckled, before pulling him backstage, past winding corridors until they came to the furthest dressing room, the dressing room of the regular singer. Arthur let himself and Alfred in, and when they were both inside, he closed the door behind them.

"This is yours now," he smiled, sitting down next to Alfred on the couch inside the room. "Congratulations."

"Aw, not really, I mean, it was just an accident, the spilling the champagne thing," Alfred gestured uselessly with his hands, getting even more flustered as the love of his life pressed up against him on the couch. "Uh, Arthur?"

"Well, accident or no, I'm glad it happened," Arthur mumbled softly, leaning closer to Alfred. The younger man drew closer as well until their foreheads were touching, their breaths ghosting over each other's.

"Exactly which accident are we talking about here anyway?" Alfred asked, but he already knew what Arthur was talking about.

"Think about it, git." Arthur chuckled breathlessly, before leaning in to kiss Alfred.

Arthur's lips were warm on his, and it sent Alfred soaring. Smiling into the kiss, he wrapped his arms around Arthur and pulled him closer, pressing their bodies flush against each other as they kissed tenderly, pouring out their built-up emotions from before.

They parted, panting slightly.

"Well," Alfred laughed, breathless and happy, "I don't suppose you have anything up tomorrow, do you?"

"Alfred, are you asking me out on a date?"

"Maybe." Alfred chuckled, cuddling closer, pressing their foreheads together.

"Well, then.  _Maybe_  you can squeeze me into  _your_  schedule, Mr. Regular Singer." Arthur chuckled, and Alfred laughed, loud and hearty.

"Sure thing, babe. Anything for you." He smiled, kissing Arthur gently again.

"I don't think I've told you this, but I love you," Arthur whispered, and Alfred smiled.

"Me too."

* * *

Gilbert, grinning, elbowed Ludwig.

"What'd I tell you?" he winked at his younger brother. The blonde man sighed and shook his head fondly, a smile crossing his face.

"You were right all along, brother." He said, before turning to address the two patrons sitting at the table they were standing next to. "Mr. Xavier, Mr. Sullivan, thank you for your cooperation." He bowed, and the two men chuckled.

"The Club Holic will be expecting your payment tomorrow evening. Mr. Lafeyson and Mr. Xavier will be here to pick it up." Sullivan said, and Gilbert nodded.

"Duly noted," he nodded, "It's a pleasure working with you."

"It was a pleasure doing this for you," Charles smiled charmingly, "Thank you for a wonderful evening."

"We try our best." Ludwig grinned, and the two men stood up. "Oh, should I escort you two outside?"

"That won't be necessary," Sullivan shook his head, "Go congratulate your friend over there. We'll be fine on our own." The two said their goodbyes and walked out of the restaurant, Sullivan's hand rested on Charles' hip.

"Alright then." Gilbert grinned. "Come on, Lud! Let's go claim our reward!"

"Reward?" Ludwig echoed.

"Yeah, Al owes us a big fat favour now, and I'm expecting drinks!"

Laughing brightly, he and his brother made their way into the kitchens, where the staff was buzzing with excitement.


	9. I Won't Say (I'm in Love)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GENRE: Romance  
> RATING: T  
> WARNINGS: Cheesiness AGAIN, pervy guardian angels, swearing, ridiculous rain, library loving.  
> PAIRING/S: USUK, Alfred/Arthur(America/England); GiriPan, Heracles/Kiku(Greece/Japan)
> 
>  
> 
> Arthur’s being haunted by his guardian angel who apparently thinks he’s also Cupid, into confessing to the guy he’s been (stalking) admiring from afar for weeks now. Of course he’s not in love with him, he’s not!  
> Little did he know how right his angel was.

"No, Francis, for the last bloody time, I am not in love with that git Alfred Jones!" Arthur glared at the blonde angel sitting on the ledge of the window, leg up and elbow resting on it, chin cradled in his hand. Huffing in an annoyed manner, Arthur buried his nose into his books once more, signalling he wanted nothing more of the conversation, but Francis was no pushover. After all, what better guardian for a stubborn man than an equally stubborn guardian angel?

" _Non, non, ma chère_ ," Francis clicked his tongue, lifting his free hand, forcing Arthur's head up with magic. The blonde glared at him, resisting against the hold the man had on his head, but he couldn't move unless the angel had let go. "Have I ever told you how acrid lies sound?" chuckling, grinning in a patronising manner, "And how much I absolutely  _hate_ hearing it from pretty little things like yourself?" he lowered his hand, letting go of his hold on his charge.

"Well, keep listening." Arthur scoffed, turning his head away from Francis' phantom grip, before focusing on his book. "You're not a bloody Cherubim, and you  _certainly_  aren't one of the archangels— _especially_ that cruel bastard with his reins all around love." He pointed an accusatory finger at Francis, not looking at him, before flipping to another page, furiously scribbling at his notebook.

Francis sighed, turning his head away, thinking to himself,  _Oh, if only you knew_.

* * *

It had been a complete accident, really, how this all came to be.

Arthur was standing alone outside the university theatre in the November rain that was nothing short of absolutely bloody  _freezing_ , and of course, Francis had nothing to help Arthur with—he was a bloody  _angel_ , for crying out loud, all spirit and no flesh and bone, hallelujah, hosanna, in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, amen. Arthur had forgotten to bring his umbrella along, so he stood there, shivering in the cold, bundled up in his too-large hand-me-down greatcoat that most likely his older brother Angus had given him.

So there they were, human and angel, standing together in the rain, lonely, Francis' not-presence offering Arthur minimal comfort, the disgruntled Brit mumbling to himself darkly as he bared the cold, his arms wrapped firmly around himself as he waited for the doors to open.

"Bloody fucking hell," Arthur swore, looking around for anyone that could approach to unlock the bloody door already. Seeing no one, he swore again, a word so filthy it would have sent the Cherubim running away in throngs, and the other angels blush, but obviously Francis was already used to this, and merely shook his head in fond exasperation. Suddenly he heard footsteps past the torrent of rain, and he ghosted his hand over Arthur's shoulder.

"Someone's coming." He said to Arthur, who looked at him, eyebrow raised.

"Hey!" a voice called out, drowned out slightly by the torrent of rain. "What the heck are you doing here, man, and without an umbrella?" Suddenly the rain stopped pouring on Arthur and he turned to see a tall blonde man with the bluest eyes he had ever seen. A blush spread across his cheeks unprecedented, and Arthur found himself staring, but he couldn't look away.

The taller blonde grinned down at him. "You waiting for the science fair too?" he asked, and Arthur nodded. "Cool! Let's go around together!" he smiled, holding out his free hand for Arthur to shake. "I'm Alfred Jones. I major in astrophysics. What's your major?"

"J-journalism," Arthur squeaked, finally finding the voice to speak, "I, um, I came to write a paper on the science fair." He didn't notice Francis smile knowingly, before disappearing from sight.

"Cool!" the teen smiled brightly, and Arthur's cheeks impossibly reddened more. "So, uh, what's your name?"

"A-Arthur. Arthur Kirkland." He stuttered, gingerly taking Alfred's hand and shaking it, catching himself before he melted into Alfred's warm touch. "P-pleasure."

"Nice to meet you," Alfred nodded, "Hope you don't mind me geeking out later." He grinned sheepishly, letting go of Arthur's hand. The Brit wilted slightly at the loss of warmth, and a secret smile had crossed Alfred's face that went unnoticed by the flustered man.

"N-no, that's perfectly fine," Arthur shook his head, mostly to clear it, "Actually, I'm rubbish at these things, so I'd like it if I had someone with me to clarify things."

"Well, then," Alfred grinned, "I'm your man, Artie!"

"P-please, call me Arthur." Arthur said, and Alfred shook his head.

"Nope, Artie suits you better. It's cute," he smiled, and for a second Arthur thought he heard, "Just like you."

They stayed silent for a while, until Alfred gave him a look. "Hey, wait. You're soaking wet!" he said, and Arthur shrugged.

"I forgot my umbrella."

"In the weather like this?" Alfred asked, laughing, before shrugging out of his jersey. Arthur's eyes widened and he raised his hands in protest.

"H-hey, wait—" he began, but Alfred cut him off with pressing his index finger to his lips.

"Chill out, dude, you're soaking wet, you're going to get sick at this rate. Come on, coat off, you can have my jersey." Blushing, Arthur shrugged out of Angus' old coat and Alfred handed him the too-large jersey. The sleeves went down past his palm and only the tips of his fingers peeked out from under the cloth. It was warm, and Arthur melted in its welcoming heat. Alfred chuckled, before turning away, the tiny blush on his face hidden from Arthur's view. Arthur, on the other hand, shrank backwards and cupped his cheeks in his hands to hide the burning red painting his cheeks.

He pointedly kept his glance away from Alfred as they stood together by the doors, until someone came along to open up for them.

* * *

They had spent the entire fair together, laughing and smiling and just having fun, Arthur barely noticing that his guardian angel had disappeared from his side as he and Alfred made their way past exhibit after exhibit, Alfred explaining to Arthur excitedly every single thing, filling up Arthur's little pocket notebook with so many notes Arthur could almost a scientific journal with all the facts in it.

"That was fun," Alfred laughed as the two of them made their way out of the theatre, twin smiles on their faces. "I hope we'll get something like this again next year."

"Yes," Arthur chuckled, "I certainly had fun, and for the first time, I actually thought science was  _exciting_."

"Of course it is!" Alfred grinned brightly, leaning down to look Arthur in the eye. "You know what, I'll go help you out with your paper, even."

"Really?" Arthur asked, a smile making its way onto his face, "I'd really appreciate that, if I did this alone I don't know what bollocks I might end up spouting when I write it up."

"That's what you need me for, right?" Alfred grinned, winking at Arthur. "See you tomorrow?"

"A-alright," Arthur nodded, "I'm usually in the library by opening time."

"8AM? Sure thing," Alfred gave him a thumbs-up, his other hand pulling his phone out of his pocket. "Mind giving me your number? It'll be helpful if I could contact you."

"A-ah, right," Arthur fumbled to take his own phone out and handed it to Alfred. "You give me yours too." The taller blonde grinned and handed Arthur his phone, and the two exchanged numbers. "O-oh, and here," he stuttered, pulling Alfred's jersey off and handing it to him. "You would probably need this."

"Nah, it's fine," Alfred shook his head, patting Arthur's hand, pushing the jersey back at Arthur.

"Well, I gotta go. I still have practice to get to." Alfred said, gesturing over his shoulder with his thumb after looking at his watch.

"Practice?" Arthur echoed, and Alfred grinned sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

"Yeah, I'm the quarterback of the school varsity team." Alfred chuckled, "Gotta run!" he waved at Arthur, before running away. Dazed, Arthur weakly waved back, watching Alfred disappear into the steadily growing crowd.

 _I have his number,_  he thought, elated, looking down at his phone, squeezing the Union Jack silicone skin, rucking it up against his fingers, warm and flushed against the cold of his smartphone.  _I have his_ _ **number**_.

He froze, realising what he was thinking, and shook his head to clear it of the images of Alfred's smiling face, his twinkling summer-sky-blue eyes, golden hair and broad, well-built body. The body of a quarterback.

Eyes widening, he cupped his cheeks in his hands again and he felt them hot as ever.

Oh,  _bollocks_.

Turning on his heel, he made a move to walk away as he shoved his phone in his coat pocket—when he saw Francis standing in front of him.

"B-bloody hell!" Arthur yelled, catching the attention of the people around them. He glared at them all to get them to look away, and continued walking, expecting Francis to follow him. He pulled out his phone and pressed it to his ear.

"Where have you been?" he asked, and Francis chuckled.

"You hardly noticed,  _ma chère_ ," he grinned. "You were having too much fun with you precious little  _beau_ ," he waggled his eyebrows at Arthur, whose blush only intensified. "Look, you're even still red. And that jersey. Hm."

"Oh, shut up," Arthur hissed, and sharply turned a corner to head into the school building. "We've only just met." He said, stuffing the jersey into his bag alongside Angus' old coat, sopping wet and inside a plastic bag (Arthur grimaced upon remembering Alfred was the one who gave the plastic bag to him, damn that man he was too bloody kind; and also damn himself for being such a sucker for nice guys) shoved up against his notebooks.

"Falling in love is faster than blinking." Francis cooed, and Arthur glared at him.

"You're not a bloody Cherubim, Francis." He deadpanned, and the man laughed. "Nor are you that bastard of an archangel that made my best friend fall in love with the laziest arsehole I have ever seen in my life."

"Oh, come on. You have to admit Kiku and Heracles make a cute couple." Francis shook his head in fond exasperation, "You need to learn to let go."

Arthur glared at him, and Francis snickered. "I bet I can get you to admit that you love him."

"Oh, I'd like to see you try," Arthur scoffed, and Francis grinned.

"Oh, just watch me." his guardian angel suddenly disappeared, and Arthur felt a chill run down his spine.

* * *

Arthur met up with Alfred for the next few days in between classes, during their breaks that overlapped, the taller blonde excitedly prattling on about everything they had seen in the fair, Arthur listening to him intently, a small smile on his face (that he will forever deny to Francis that it was a smile of stupid-faced puppy love) as he nodded, absorbing every fact, Alfred's sweet-sounding voice, the twinkle in his blue-blue- _blue_ eyes, the upward curve of his lips as he smiles, his golden blonde hair that when sunlight shone on it gave him a beautiful halo that was more beautiful than Francis' ( _this_ , however, he did boast at Francis, who only teased him more about his not-so-covert 'farsighted admiration' directed at the blonde teen).

"Artie? Artie?" he asked, waving his hand in front of Arthur's face, snapping him out of his trance. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"O-oh, I'm fine." Arthur stuttered, shaking his head, lifting it from his palm as he sat up straight, mentally berating himself for letting Alfred notice he was rather distracted. It was the last thing he wanted the teen to know, lest he scare him off and with him go the opportunity of a lifetime at love.

Alfred peered at him, a worried look on his face, pressing his palm on Arthur's forehead. "You're burning up, Artie. I  _knew_  it, you really did get sick." He clicked his tongue, "Darn," he shook his head. "Come on, let's head over to my place, I'm pretty sure I still have some ibuprofen back at home to bring that fever down."

"N-no, I'm fine, really," Arthur shook his head, his reading glasses going askew as he pulled away from Alfred. "No need to worry about me."

Alfred gave him a sceptical glance. "Yeah, right." He rolled his eyes, grinning, before standing up.

"H-hey," Arthur spoke up, also making a move to get up, "Wh-what are you doing?"

Alfred only grinned at him and lifted him, bridal-style. Arthur let out a gasp of alarm, the taller blonde merely laughing as he was manhandled out of the library, earning them shushes from the librarians, but Alfred merely laughed them off as he carried Arthur out, but not without carrying along their bags.

"H-hey! Wait! Let go, you git!" Arthur yelled the moment they were out of the library, "A-Alfred!"

"Ah, just shut it, Artie!" Alfred laughed, and Arthur's eyes widened upon seeing the blonde just as flushed as he was.

"… Alfred?" he blinked, and the blonde winked at him.

"Come on." He said, running the rest of the way to the nearby campus dormitories.

* * *

Alfred set down Arthur gently on his bed in his tiny bedroom, before heading over to the kitchenette to fetch a glass of water.

"… Guess I didn't have the medicine." He said softly, handing Arthur the glass of water, pointedly keeping his gaze away from the smaller blonde.

"… Alfred?" he asked, and the jock turned his head to look at Arthur, flush clear on his face, his eyes glimmering with some unknown emotion Arthur couldn't place a finger on. Slowly he knelt down so that they were eye to eye.

"Hey, uh," Alfred began to say, his hands making their way to Arthur's, his palms drawing over Arthur's dorsum, fingers wrapping around Arthur's thin wrists, gently grasping. "There's something I need do tell you."

Arthur swallowed, nodding.

"But you have to tell me something too." He said, and Arthur noticed the faint glimmer of light right next to Alfred's ear. His eyes widened and he scowled.

" _Francis_!" he growled, and Alfred's expression went slack. The blonde guardian angel faded into view as Alfred slumped forward into Arthur's shoulder, the shorter blonde scrabbling to keep Alfred upright. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"

"Speeding up the process," Francis rolled his eyes. "You're very persistent, I have to admit that."

"… What the heck are you talking about? Only the love archangel can do bollocks like this!" Arthur gelled at him.

"Then what does that make me,  _ma chère?_ " Francis smirked. Arthur gaped at him.

"Oh, no, you  _didn't_ ," he gasped, and Francis smirked, shrugging.

"Well, I already know anyway, so I guess I shouldn't push it." He snapped his fingers and he winked at Arthur. "Enjoy your soul mate, Arthur." He laughed, before vanishing, just as Alfred woke up.

"Whoa, what happened?" Alfred asked, blinking, as he pulled up from Arthur's shoulder. "First we were in the library, and now we're…" he trailed off, looking around, realisation dawning on his face. He apled.

"Holy shit," he swore, before looking at Arthur, his face flushed red. "I didn't… I didn't do anything stupid, did I?"

Arthur couldn't speak, too flustered to even  _think_ , and Alfred looked down to realise he was on his knees, his hands wrapped around Arthur's.

"Oh, man." Alfred bit his lip, looking at Arthur's flushed face. "… I didn't say anything… stupid, did I?"

"You were about to," Arthur managed to reply, looking away from Alfred.

"… Really." Alfred breathed, sighing. "Oh, well, might as well get it over and done with."

"… Pardon?" Arthur asked, looking at Alfred, eyes wide in surprise.

"Artie, you see," Alfred smiled sheepishly at Arthur, "I've been in love with you ever since I met you back on our first day of university." Arthur blinked at him blankly. "You probably don't remember me back then, I was tiny and dorky and totally unnoticeable."

Arthur's eyes widened.  _Now_  he remembered.

* * *

"H-hey!" the scrawny blonde teen called out at him. He turned around to look at who was calling him, and frowned slightly.

"Yes?" he asked, and the teen blushed brightly, fumbling with the straps of his bag.

"I-I was wondering if I could join you for the orientation. Y-y'know, just so we don't get lost too much?" the teen asked, stumbling over his words and Arthur shrugged.

"Alright then." He nodded, and the smile on the blonde's face made it look like those two words were the best things ever told to him in his entire life.

* * *

" _You_  were that guy?" Arthur asked, and Alfred nodded.

"I joined the varsity team after that to shape up and get your attention. When I saw you standing outside the theatre, I knew it just had to be luck." He blushed. "So I gathered up my courage to talk to you."

"… Oh," Arthur breathed, and Alfred laughed self-depreciatingly.

"So, yeah. I'm in love with you, just thought you'd might like to know."

Arthur looked at him, before shaking his head. Alfred's shoulders sagged, but then Arthur grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him in for a kiss, their lips crashing against each other as Arthur wrapped his arms around the back of Alfred's neck.

They pulled apart for breath, the two of them panting slightly, and Alfred grinned.

"So, does that mean you're in love with me too?" he asked, and Arthur grinned, shaking his head.

"I'm not saying a word," he shook his head, and Alfred eyed him strangely.

"… Why?" he asked, pouting, and Arthur chuckled, giving him a small peck on his lips.

"Looks good on you," he chuckled, rubbing their noses together.

"Why won't you tell me?"

"I won't say I'm in love, Alfred," he chuckled, looking over Alfred's shoulder to see Francis watching them, arms crossed, a fond smile on his face. Gently, he kissed Alfred's cheek.

The blonde lifted his eyebrow, and Arthur chuckled, pulling him in close. "Kiss me again, you git."

Alfred shook his head, smiling, before doing as he was told.

 _At least, out loud,_  Arthur thought to himself happily,  _I won't say I'm in love_.


	10. I 2 I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GENRE: Romance, Drama  
> RATING: T+  
> WARNINGS: Cheesiness AGAIN, more hospital drama oh god bukkun cut it out already, almost-sex, awesome ring tones (?!), mentions of sex  
> PAIRING/S: USUK, Alfred/Arthur(America/England)
> 
>  
> 
> Alfred and Arthur’s relationship gets strained too far that it almost, almost snaps, until they talk it all out and finally see eye to eye.

"Clear," the man called, and all the nurses rushed to the side as he slammed the defibrillator down onto the unmoving man's torso.

"Still a v-fib," one called, and the man rubbed the electrodes together. "Keep going."

"Charging."

"Clear!"

The body jolted with the hundred Newtons of force that pulsated through it, and the man came to with a start, choking and gasping, as the medical team let out sighs of relief.

"Heart rate?" the man holding the electrodes sighed as he moved away, letting the head surgeon take over, his stiff back slouching in relief as he handed the electrodes to an intern to take care of. The nurse spared a glance at the monitor and smiled.

"We're a-okay, doc." She smiled, despite the rings under her eyes and her pale face. The man weakly smiled at her and nodded.

"Good. My shift's over for tonight, but don't hesitate to call for me if you need anything." He looked over his shoulder. "You'll be okay on your own?" he asked, and the other surgeon merely gave him a thumbs-up, too busy inspecting the patient, who was now being given the usual necessities—IV connection, the sorts.

Sighing tiredly, the blonde doctor ran his hand down his face as he walked out of the operation room—to almost run into his long-time boyfriend. A weak laugh escaped his lips as he tiredly waved at the pathologist standing in his way, arms crossed, smiling knowingly at him. He was already dressed to go home—gone was the white lab gown and now he was dressed in a warm-looking dark green cardigan over a black polo shirt. A silver and green scarf was wound around his neck.

"O-oh, hey, babe," the cardiac surgeon greeted half-heartedly, before leaning forward to slump over the smaller man, earning him a light-hearted laugh as cool arms wrapped around him to keep him upright. "Man, what a day."

"What a day indeed," his boyfriend chuckled, his British accent soothing to his ears. "You've just robbed me of a body to examine," he said, and the man pulled a face.

"That's not very funny," he pouted, righting himself and standing properly with his hands on his boyfriend's shoulders for support. "Criminal or no, he's still a person."

"Yes, yes, I know." His boyfriend rolled his eyes, before giving him a soft kiss. "Can't you take a dry old Brit joke?" he chuckled, "But then again, you're bloody tired."

"And  _you_  aren't?" the man laughed tiredly, leaning in and resting his forehead against the man's. "Lucky you. All you get to do is poke around dead bodies and push around interns."

"Ah, the coroner's life for me." He replied, chuckling, "Come on, Alfred, love, let's get you to the nurse station."

"Oh, honey, you're the best." Alfred giggled, but allowed himself to be led away.

* * *

Dr. Alfred F. Jones, cardiothoracic surgeon, had the life. He had a good job, a  _more than decent_  pay, and he had found the love of his life in the form of Dr. Arthur Kirkland, more-feared-than-respected pathologist working in the morgue at the basement of their hospital.

Today is their anniversary, and Alfred had prepared for this for so long. With both of their demanding schedules regularly keeping them apart, Alfred had made sure that tonight would be something they spend together, for once, and not in labs floors away from each other like how last year had went.

Together, they walked hand in hand to their shared apartment, smiling gently at each other as they talked about their day. They were laughing when they stepped out of the elevator at their floor, Alfred fishing out the keys from his pocket as they walked. Arthur unwound his arm from Alfred's to let him unlock their door.

Smiling, Alfred turned the key in its lock and opened the door, going in after Arthur did. The two set their things down—their bags dumped unceremoniously on the floor next to the shoe cabinet and the Chinese takeout they had bought on their way home onto the table. Arthur got to work on unpacking their dinner, and Alfred went to turn on the heater, plugging in lights at the side of the couch, bathing the living room in a warm orange glow. Arthur handed him his container, and then they curled up on the couch together, Arthur leaning on Alfred like a child curling up against a big teddy bear.

"So," Alfred spoke up, grinning down at Arthur. He lifted his box of takeout. "Happy anniversary." He chuckled, and Arthur laughed gently.

"Chinese takeout, how romantic, Alfred." He smiled, lifting his own box.

"You know I want only the best for you, babe." Alfred winked, before the both of them burst out laughing. Wiping a tear that had peeked out of the corner of his eye, Alfred sighed, after calming down. He leant in to kiss his lover, smiling, and the both of them laughed softly, rubbing their noses together.

"Love you," Alfred gently said, and Arthur sighed, smiling.

"Me too." He kissed his lover gently, before pulling away. "Now, let's eat; I'm starving."

"Of course," Alfred laughed, " _Bon appétit_."

"Oh, God, not you too," Arthur rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling. "I already have to deal with that frog in the records department, now there's you buggering about?"

"Aw, babe, you know I love you," Alfred laughed, before tucking into his dinner. Arthur shook his head in fond exasperation, before eating as well. They settled into a comfortable silence as they ate, snuggled up next to each other.

"Artie?" Alfred asked after around half an hour, "Do you think tonight, we can…" he gestured uselessly with his hand, blushing, "Y'know, uh,  _go_ ," Arthur raised an eyebrow, half-turning to look at him.

"Love, I don't understand what you're talking about."

"Doyouwanttogohavesextonight?" Alfred blurted out, his face flushing. Arthur took a moment to process what he said (he never bothers asking Alfred to repeat whatever he blurts out, he knows when he's nervous, he tends to rant, so he tries to make do with what he first hears) and when the message sunk in, he blushed as well.

"Oh," he stated simply, his ears reddening as Alfred looked at him, also equally flustered. "… Oh."

"Yeah," Alfred laughed nervously. "I mean, it's been so long since we've, you know," he gestured again with his hands, and Arthur chuckled, smiling fondly, before setting his box down onto the coffee table. His smile soon developed into a grin, however, when he got up, straddled Alfred and crawled up his body to look into his eyes. "W-whoa, Artie…"

"Well, then, handsome," Arthur purred, "What would you like to do to me tonight?" he took the box of takeout from Alfred's hands and placed it safely next to his own, before turning his attention back to Alfred, licking his lips.

"Oh, babe, I just want to  _do_  you," he replied, his voice turning gravelly as his state of arousal grew more evident, his erection pressing into Arthur's thigh as the man leaned in to kiss him. Their kiss was heated—cumulated frustration of months of not having sex pouring out onto each other, washing them over with blissful waves of lust—

_O say can you see by the dawn's early light_

"Ah, shit." Alfred swore, and Arthur groaned, getting up and off Alfred as he got up and reached for his phone. Annoyed, he held it to his ear. "Dr. Jones. Who is calling?"

Arthur sat there silently, waiting for Alfred to say something,  _do_  something, and his face fell when he saw Alfred's face fall as well.

"… Okay. Fine. I'll be there." He almost growled into the receiver, before hanging up. He looked at Arthur, an apologetic look on his face. "Sorry, babe, trauma room got patient with a puncture through the lung. No one else was around." He walked up to Arthur and kissed his forehead. "I'm sorry."

"I-it's alright," Arthur replied, shaking his head, "Go… save lives. I'll wait for you here."

Alfred smiled at him apologetically, before running off to the door, grabbing his bag on the way out.

* * *

The following days have been similar, Alfred too busy in the operating room or Arthur being pressed hard for quick results of autopsies (the deadline was in  _thirty_  bloody days, Arthur had complained, who the bloody hell needs them in 5?) that they saw less and less of each other.

They began to waver as time passed by, until there came a time they were together back in their apartment together, eating dinner (Alfred cooked, Arthur's cooking was so bad it could probably rouse even the cadavers Arthur performs autopsies on) in an uncomfortable, awkward silence.

"… You're never around anymore," Arthur suddenly spoke up, breaking the ice. Alfred looked up from where he was pushing food around his plate to look at his lover, eyebrow raised.

"…Artie?" he asked, and the green-eyed man sighed.

"I miss you, truly, I do," Arthur said, "But you never have time for me anymore."

"… Babe, my job—the  _surgery_ —"

"Aren't there  _other_  surgeons out there? There's bloody  _Ludwig_  out there, for crying out loud, isn't he a cardio surgeon too? Kiku's licensed for general surgery. There's that new surgeon that came in just last month," Arthur sighed, "There are plenty of people out there that can replace you for a while, why won't you make time for  _us_  this time round?"

"Babe, you know I can't do that, there are only  _so_  many of us," Alfred defended, and Arthur shook his head.

"Alfred, there are enough surgeons at the hospital to spare. You just…" Arthur put down his fork and gestured for a moment with his hands, trying to figure out what to say, "You just… you're too selfless, Alfred, volunteering to shifts and shifts on end back-to-back, that… that you're not even seeing me anymore, even on whatever sparse break you find yourself in."

"H-hey, now just a minute, you're getting like that too!" Alfred replied, pointing at Arthur, who gaped at him, eyes wide. "You're always nose-deep in autopsies whenever I come down to see you, that I always end up talking to that intern that's crazy-mad for me instead of you," he shook his head, "Do you know how damned frustrated I am? At least you can afford to leave your corpses alone!"

"Excuse me; I can hardly leave their side as it is!" Arthur bit back, regaining composure after recovering from the shock at the sudden sharp turn of events. "It's those bloody lawyers and those bloody families demanding immediate results! I'm not some machine, Alfred!"

"You have interns with you; couldn't you use them to help you? So you're not always shit-deep with those dead hunks of meat?" Alfred frowned, his mood slowly souring. "From the way  _I_ see things, I can honestly say that if anything, I should be the one missing you; it seems you love them dead old hunks instead of me."

"What?" Arthur bristled, getting up from his seat. "How dare you? Those interns have yet to learn everything— _I'm_  the respected pathologist, Alfred—do you think I'd let those new graduates handle  _my_  bodies and compromise investigations? I have to teach them  _everything_ , all the little details to examine, every bloody little thing that could tell what made that person die." He glared at Alfred. "I've sent enough surgeons to court for malpractice." He said.

"Are you threatening me?" Alfred growled, also standing up, towering over Arthur. "There is a  _reason_  I'm the one on call all the time, Arthur," he spat, "You're not the  _only_  competent person in that hospital."

"You're impossible!" Arthur yelled at him, throwing his hands up.

They ended up arguing, a screaming fest that had people next door glancing in the direction of their shared apartment.

"That is  _it_!" Arthur yelled, "I'm leaving!"

"Go away, then!" Alfred yelled back. "See if I care!"

Arthur glared at him, before storming out the door, bag in his hand, slamming it behind him as he left, leaving Alfred all alone in their suddenly too-empty apartment. He stood there in silence for a moment, gritting his teeth, his hands tightly balled into fists.

It didn't take long for his anger to subside, though, and soon Alfred found himself sitting down on the couch— _their_ couch—with a tub of ice cream watching some soap drama on the TV that he really wasn't paying attention to.

Bitterly, he sniffed and grabbed his phone, before calling Kiku.

It rang once, twice, three times, but no one picked up. Soon the monotonous voice of the service provider spoke up to tell him the line was busy. Looks like Kiku was talking to someone. Sniffling bitterly, he turned his attention back to the TV.

He was about to fall asleep when he heard his phone ring.

_O say can you see by the dawn's early light_

He never let it reach the second line, hand snatching out to answer it, hoping it was Arthur—

" _Alfred-san? You called me a while ago?_ " Kiku's voice came in through from the other side. The blonde man sighed, slumping back as he shoved a particularly large scoop of vanilla into his mouth.

"Awthuw wosh bein an iffiof." Alfred mumbled through the ice cream, pouting.

"…  _I am sorry, but I could not understand a word you just said_."

Alfred sighed, swallowing the ice cream all in one go—and he hissed as his brain began to hurt, icy stabs in the middle of his cerebral cortex.

" _Alfred-san, are you alright_?"

"O-oh, 'm fine," Alfred replied, "Just had a brain freeze. I called to talk to you about Arthur."

"…  _Ah._ " Kiku said after a moment. " _What did you two do_?"

"He was being an idiot," Alfred whined into the receiver. "Complaining about our shifts and shit," he stuffed another scoop of ice cream into his mouth. "And then he just left!"

"… _What did you tell him, Alfred-san_?"

"I told him he loved his dead bodies more than he loved me."

On the other side, he heard the Japanese man sigh. He could practically  _see_  him shake his head on the other side, most likely one hand poised over papers. It was his shift this time, which was why Alfred was home at all.

" _You two are idiots,_ " Kiku said after a while, " _If I may just be frank._ "

"… What the heck, Kiku?" Alfred whined, and Kiku merely clicked his tongue.

" _In time, Alfred-san. In time. Now, if I may, I'm going to go make rounds_."

"W-wait, just give me a suggestion—what do I do about Artie?"

" _All you two have to do is see eye to eye._ " Kiku replied.

"But… he's left me, that jerk, like as if I'll be the one crawling back."

" _That's what_ _ **he**_ _said,_ " Kiku said. Alfred's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to ask a question when Kiku spoke again, " _Now, rounds. Goodnight, Alfred-san_." He said, his tone final, and he hung up.

… Eye to eye? As if. If anything, it's Arthur who should apologise. Really, should he just abandon his patients? I think not!

Alfred crossed his hands and sulked on the couch. "Fine. Let him come back to me, then. I don't need to apologise."

* * *

Five days later, and Alfred felt  _wrecked_. Throughout the entire week, he had kept on dreaming of Arthur—his warmth, his beautiful smile, his vibrant eyes, his lovely voice,  _everything_ about the man that made his heart flutter.

He couldn't get over the lack of the man's presence in his life, there was one time at the kitchen table where he blindly reached for the sugar jar. He couldn't reach it, and without looking up from the newspaper, he waggled his fingers.

"Artie, could you reach the sugar for me?" he asked no one, and he paused to realise that indeed he was very much alone inside their shared apartment—well,  _previously shared_ seemed to be more appropriate, with only Alfred living there.

Sighing sadly, he looked at his phone. "… Should probably change the ringtone," he mumbled, before randomly chancing upon some song he had clicked on when he was browsing his music files. It played up when he selected it.

_Got myself a notion_

_And one I know that you'll understand_

Alfred paused, looking down at his phone. He never remembered having  _that_  song in there.

_To set the world in motion by reaching out for each other's hand_

He looked down at his free hand, and sighed, remembering how perfectly Arthur's smaller hand had fit in his. Oh, how he missed the feeling.

_Maybe we'll discover_

_What we shoulda known all along_

Alfred shook his head. Oh, no. He was positive Arthur hated him now, what with all the stupid things he said to him—even though Arthur was rather stupid himself—he doubted Arthur would even make a move to set things right.

He sighed inwardly. But then again, Alfred was also unlikely to fix this little problem of theirs because of his insecurity that only is triggered when Arthur was around. Around patients and their families, the hospital staff and fellow surgeons, he would act perfectly and professionally, but when Arthur was in the picture, his brain would turn into mush and he wouldn't be able to talk properly.

He sat down heavily on the couch, sighing, as he looked at his phone.

"…  _God_ , I miss you so much Artie." He mumbled, turning off the music playing from the phone. "I know I belonged better when you were with me. I was less of a socially awkward penguin than a hero eagle."

Suddenly his phone rang.

_Got myself a notion_

_And one I know that you'll understand_

_To set the world in motion by reaching out for each other's hand_

Alfred stayed still for a moment. Maybe the caller would just go away?

It kept ringing, alarming Alfred.

_Maybe we'll discover_

_What we shoulda known all along_

_One way or another, together's where we both belong_

He froze.  _Together's where we both belong._

Taking a deep breath, he picked up the phone to hear, out of all things, sobbing. There was someone crying over at the other side. His eyes widened.

"… Artie?"

"Alfred, I am so, so sorry," Arthur rambled from the other side. "I said stupid, stupid things to you, and just… utter  _bollocks_  kept coming out, I'm sorry, so sorry, I miss you, I need you,"

"A-Artie," Alfred found himself choking. "B-babe, calm down." He gently said. "L-look, I'm sorry, too," he looked around the room, blushing. "I was also pretty insensitive. I promise I'll take better care of you from now on."

"Oh, Alfred," Arthur sighed from the other side, his breathing shaky from crying. "I-I still love you, you know that, right?"

"'Course." Alfred smiled, "Come home, please, babe."

"Of course." Arthur's smile could practically be  _heard_  from the other side. "I'll be right there."

"Where are you, anyway?" Alfred asked, and Arthur laughed, a sound so welcome to Alfred's ears he almost melted into the couch.

"I'm crashing over at my brothers' place," Arthur chuckled, "They're actually currently laughing at me as I sob in the living room, downing cups of ice cream that you absolutely love."

"I'm eating up your favourite flavour over here," Alfred found himself grinning. "Now get over here so I can kiss you. And maybe fuck you."

Arthur laughed brightly. "I'll look forward to that." A small kissing sound could be heard. "… I love you."

"Love you too, babe." Alfred smiled, before kissing the receiver. "I'll be waiting."

"I'm coming." Arthur assured him, before hanging up. Smiling goofily to himself, Alfred leant back, set down the almost-empty cup of ice cream on the coffee table and played the song on his phone again.

_Got myself a notion_

_And one I know that you'll understand_

_To set the world in motion by reaching out for each other's hand_

_Maybe we'll discover_

_What we shoulda known all along_

_One way or another, together's where we both belong_

He glanced at the door so often he was practically wearing holes in it, but he didn't care.

_If we listen to each other's heart_

_We'll find we're never too far apart_

He smiled when he heard the tell-tale ring of the doorbell from the ground floor to his room. Arthur was coming.

_And maybe love is a reason why_

_For the first time ever, we're seein' it I-2-I_

He stood up, turning the music off.

"Better get ready." He grinned. "I'm going to give Artie the surprise of his getting-back-together-with-me day."

He began to strip, eyeing the cup of vanilla ice cream on the coffee table.

For a moment, he deliberated with himself, but it didn't take long for him to come up with a decision. Grinning mischievously, he picked up the cup and looked at the spoon.

Let's just say with these sort of things, he had the utmost confidence that he and Arthur see eye to eye.


	11. Someday My Prince Will Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genre: Romance, Smut  
> Pairing(s): USUK, Alfred/Arthur(America/England); GerIta, Ludwig/Feliciano(Germany/Italy); Cherik, Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier  
> Rating: R-18  
> Warnings: Smut, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Crossovers galore, Priests, oh and did I mention smut?
> 
> Arthur is an Omega living in a sanctuary for other Omegas like him: abandoned and alone for life. Peacefully living for years, Arthur has come to realise his dream: he was going to wait for his very own Alpha, who would sweep him off his feet and carry him off into the sunset.
> 
> Guess who bursts in through the door.

"Arthur, please help me here," a man's voice called out to the man sitting on the windowsill, his nose buried in his book. Arthur lifted his head from his book, blushing slightly.

"Oh, Father Charles, please wait for a moment, just one more chapter," he said, and the man in white robes laughed fondly, bright blue eyes twinkling, setting down his broom to walk up to where Arthur was to look over his shoulder.

"It's a beautiful book, isn't it?" he smiled, reading over Arthur's shoulder. "Not one of my favourites, but it's rather charming."

Enthusiastically, Arthur nodded. "It's my favourite." He smiled, "It's so romantic, how in the end the princess ends up with the prince and they live happily ever after," he sighed, slotting his bookmark into the page, closing the book gently before hugging it to his chest. "Just like a dream!"

"Well," the brunette monk smiled gently, stroking Arthur's hair. "Unfortunately, life isn't always like that." He said, a sad expression darkening his warm smile. Arthur frowned and tilted his head.

"Whatever do you mean, Father?" he asked, and the monk shook his head, sighing.

"Just speaking from experience." Charles smiled down at Arthur, "Now, these floors won't sweep themselves, you know!"

* * *

Arthur  _loved_ reading stories—tales of adventure, magic, action and most of all—love, letting him experience the world beyond the tall stone walls of the monastery that served as his sanctuary along with other abandoned Omegas like them, banished from their homes in light of an extremist Puritan movement that had swept through the nation like wildfire.

All the Omegas born after the first were a curse. What bollocks, Arthur thinks to himself whenever the topic arises, All the Omegas he had met inside the sanctuary were all the nicest people he had ever met—kind, understanding, sweet and loving. If anything, really, he could be the runt out of all of them, always a little too short-tempered and grouchy, socially awkward and a little more than clumsy.

"Arthur!" one of the Omegas called out to him brightly, bouncing up and down, making his brown robes ruck up and down as he moved. "Let's go have dinner together!"

"Feliciano," Arthur smiled awkwardly as the brunette bounced up to him, all bubbly and sweet like a little puppy, big brown eyes wide and sparkling. "Calm yourself down, we've got all day."

"No, no!" Feliciano shook his head so quickly; Arthur feared it might fall off. "You don't understand!" he smiled widely up at Arthur, the tell-tale stain of pink smeared right across his heart-shaped face, and at once Arthur realised what Feliciano was up to.

"You… are you looking for someone?" he asked, a smile taking over his dumbfounded face, and Feliciano sobered up slightly, nodding shyly, biting his lip. "… There's an Alpha here?" he asked, and Feliciano giggled.

" _Sì, sì_!" he giggled, grabbing Arthur's hands. "Come on! I need to show you to him!"

Laughing, Arthur let the bubbly brunette lead him away to the dining hall.

* * *

The Alpha that had caught Feliciano's eye was nothing short of  _holy shit that's fucking scary_. Arthur gaped at the burly blonde man sitting at one of the long tables, slowly tucking into the meal one of the priests had given to him. Beside him, Feliciano was gushing at how handsome the man was, swooning at the perfect physique the man had, his low rumbling voice, and his amazing steel blue eyes that according to him, 'melted me like ice, ve~!'

How could steel-ice-blue eyes melt anything, Arthur had no idea, but at least Feliciano was happy.

"Why don't you go talk to him?" Arthur asked, turning his attention away from the knight—he was obviously one, judging from the chain mail he was wearing, the armour on his shoulders, and the sword sitting down quietly next to him on the bench as he ate—to look at Feliciano, who paled the moment he said those words. "Oh, really, Feliciano, you come gushing at me with how you found your prince charming and now you're telling me you're going to back off?"

"Oh, Arthur, he's scary!" he whined, and Arthur blinked at him.

"I thought he was 'oh, so handsome and charming, ve'?" he imitated the brunette's voice and accent as best as he could but it came out as a small squeak. "Whatever happened to that?"

"Oh, but what if he doesn't like me?" Feliciano asked, "O-or what if he's bonded with another Omega already?"

"Oh, you won't know until you try," Arthur said, patting the brunette's back. "Go on, go talk to him."

Feliciano let out a squeak of fear loud enough to catch the attention of the knight eating. The two Omegas froze as the Alpha turned to look at them, and when Arthur noticed he was looking at Feliciano, he tentatively stepped away from his friend, who jolted in alarm at his sudden exit.

"A-ar—"

"Hello," the man spoke up, his voice timid and tentative, like he was being careful with it; like Feliciano would run away if he spoke like some scared animal. Arthur inwardly chuckled, looking at Feliciano, who was gaping at the man, mouth opening closing like a fish. The knight looked lost, and Arthur would have laughed, if his interference wasn't going to ruin the mood. "… Would you like some?" the knight lamely asked, pushing his bowl of soup at Feliciano, who blinked at him owlishly.

Arthur took this moment to leave the two alone, smiling knowingly as he walked back out onto the courtyard, where yet another knight with dirty blonde hair was walking alongside Charles. It looked like they were talking about something, the brunette priest's forehead creased in an expression Arthur hadn't seen on his face before. The blonde made a move to walk away when the Omega had spotted him.

"Oh, Arthur," he called, the frustrated expression on his face dissolving into a warm smile. The knight next to him grumbled, the Alpha growling as the priest turned his back to him, like as if ending their conversation. "Would you be a dear and tell the others that these two kindly knights will be staying the night?"

"Yes, Father," Arthur nodded, and the man nodded.

"Thank you, Arthur." He thanked the blonde, and Arthur quickly made his way away from the courtyard, shivering slightly. It was odd to see the man so distressed.

Who was that man making him uncomfortable?

* * *

"Father Tino, the two knights will be staying over," Arthur spoke up as the blonde priest stood up, straightening up, smiling at Arthur.

"Oh, alright then," the man nodded, as a small white dog ran out from behind him. "I'll go have two rooms prepared. Do you mind feeding Hana-Tamago?" he asked, and Arthur shook his head.

"It's alright, Father, I'll take care of it." He said, and Tino smiled at him, patting his head, gently stroking his sandy blonde locks.

"Thank you. Say, have you met the two Alphas already? I saw that they were rather handsome," he winked, gently elbowing Arthur. "The younger one, the one with the yellower hair?"

"Oh, no, Father," Arthur chuckled, "Feliciano's got his hands all over that one." Tino laughed, a bright, tinkling sound like a bell ringing, and Arthur weakly chuckled along with him.

"Oh, don't worry, Arthur," he smiled, stroking Arthur's hair. "You'll find someone too, a prince charming to call your own, eh?" he asked, winking, and Arthur blushed slightly, averting his eyes to look away from the blonde priest.

"Someday." He mumbled.

"Someday?" Tino asked, cocking his head, still smiling knowingly.

"Someday, my prince will come." Arthur's blush intensified as he said those words, and Tino laughed fondly, before placing a gentle kiss to his forehead.

"Oh, I'm sure he'll come." He smiled. "Just keep believing, and he will."

With those words, he left the room, leaving Arthur to stare blankly at the door as Hana-Tamago ran around his heels, barking for food.

"So, how did your meeting with the knight go?" Arthur asked as he and Feliciano walked back to their rooms, which were right next to each other.

"Oh, Arthur, his name was Ludwig, and he's not bound to an Omega yet!" Feliciano swooned, turning in large circles in glee, graceful like in a dance. "And he's so wonderful and this big, fluffy teddy bear, and his scent, his  _scent_ , oh, it smells  _so_  good, oh, Arthur, I'm so happy!" he squealed, grabbing Arthur's hands and spinning the both of them around, laughing brightly. Soon Arthur was laughing along, too and the two Omegas were dancing round and round to their rooms to a beat only they knew.

"Then does that mean you're going with him when they go?" Arthur asked when they've calmed down slightly, now mildly walk-waltzing to their rooms, hand in hand.

"… Oh, I've never really thought about that…" Feliciano fell silent for a moment, halting in his steps, so Arthur did so too. "… Arthur…" he looked up at the green-eyed blonde, lower lip wobbling. "… I want to go with him, but you, you're…"

"I'll be alright," Arthur assured him, patting his shoulder. "I have the other Omegas here with me, and Father Charles and Father Tino, and all the other priests. I won't be lonely."

"But you haven't found your prince yet," Feliciano protested, "Surely you can't be happy just being here."

"He'll come, someday," Arthur replied, shrugging. "I have a feeling he will." He smiled weakly at the brunette. "But for you, yours has already come." He patted Feliciano's shoulder. "You should go with him."

The brunette bit his lip, and gingerly nodded.

"That's good." Arthur nodded, and gestured for the both of them to walk again. They walked together in silence until a pair of voices in the corridor before their rooms stopped them.

Arthur pressed his finger to his lips to tell Feliciano to keep quiet, before waving his hand at the wall for the brunette to stay close to it. Quietly he crept up to the corner and peeked at the other side. His eyes widened when he saw the older knight standing over Charles, looming over him, the mere presence of the man pinning the Omega priest to the wall. He made a move to intercept when Charles spoke up.

"No, Erik." He sternly said to the knight. "I have the other Omegas to take care of here; I can't go back with you."

"You're a  _prince_ , Charles, for goodness' sake!" Erik, Arthur assumed that was the knight's name, growled. Arthur felt his nose run when the smell of the Alpha's anger filled the air. Fear gripped at him, he didn't like where this was going.

"I'm sorry, Erik, but I can't," Charles pressed, before gently pressing his hand to the knight's war-roughened cheek. "I have sworn an oath to protect the people here; and I'm assured Raven can rule as well as I could, possibly even better."

"What about  _me_ , then, Charles?" Erik asked, leaning closer, and Arthur had to bite down on his lip to keep himself from squeaking in alarm.

"… Erik," Charles sighed, and to both his and Arthur's surprise the knight leant in and captured his lips with his own. Their bodies pressed together and a wet, pleased sound escaped from the priest's lips as Erik ground himself against the Omega. Suddenly the air became heady and Arthur smelled a scent he had never ever smelt before. It sent shockwaves running up and down his spine. That was when Arthur, face flushed and thoroughly flustered, made his retreat and returned to Feliciano, who looked at him with concern.

"… Arthur?" he asked, and the blonde shook his head wildly.

"… Let's go round the other way," he mumbled, grabbing the brunette's hand. Feliciano looked up at him, alarmed.

"H-huh? Why? What's going on there?" he asked as Arthur dragged him down the hallway.

"I-I don't know!" Arthur admitted, and Feliciano could only look on in confusion as Arthur led him away.

* * *

That night, alone in his room, Arthur looked at his reflection in the mirror, the flush on his cheeks from earlier still there, albeit it had calmed down slightly, giving his cheeks a pink glow. Sighing shakily, he ran his fingers across his lips, thinking back to what the knight and the priest were doing in the corridor.

The scent had been strange,  _foreign_ , but it had smelt  _oh so good_. The mere memory sent Arthur's mind reeling and he felt himself begin to flush, his body growing hot. His cheeks felt like they were burning, and he began to feel uncomfortable. He squirmed around, and he squeaked when he felt his lower regions wet and sticky, his arse giving a wet  _squelch_  as he squirmed around. Embarrassment, mortification and alarm blended together in his mind as alarm bells started ringing in his head, as a new, unknown feeling rose up in his chest.

In an attempt to distract himself he stood up—wincing as he felt his thighs wet, dripping with something he wasn't quite sure of—and dragged himself to the window, where he opened it wide, letting the cold air in, hitting him hard and momentarily easing the rising heat in his body.

Shakily sighing, he heaved himself up to sit on the ledge and looked up at the moon in the sky, with stars dotted around it like little diamonds.

Wide green eyes ran over each star, mapping out known and made-up constellations as the thoughts of the earlier kiss slipped from his mind with a whisper as Tino's words from earlier returned to him.

" _Some day my prince will come, some day I'll find my love_ ," he sang softly to himself, lifting his hand to trace absently constellations in the stars. " _And how thrilling that moment will be when the prince of my dreams comes to me_ ," he smiled slightly, a small blush painting his cheeks a rosy hue as he imagined a tall young Alpha on a white horse, riding up to the gates of the sanctuary, dressed from head to toe in golden armour.

The phantom man in Arthur's mind approached him, riding down to him on his ivory-coloured steed from the moon, extending his hand out to him, lips quirked up in a charming smile as his eyes remained hidden behind his visor. Smiling, Arthur gave the man his hand and the phantom kissed it.

" _He'll whisper "I love you" and steal a kiss or two_ ," he continued, the phantom man mouthing out the three little words as he sang, before pressing an unfelt kiss to Arthur's wrist. " _Though he's far away, I'll find my love some day, some day when my dreams come true_."

He closed his eyes and imagined himself stepping out of the window and into the man's arms, the man smiling as he held Arthur up, spinning him around. The Omega let out a small laugh, a smile crossing his face.

" _Some day I'll find my love, someone to call my own_ ," he continued, pressing his forehead against the man's cool visor. " _And I'll know him the moment we meet, for my heart will start skipping a beat_." The man let him down onto clouds that had appeared underneath them, before bowing. Arthur's smile widened, before he bowed back, stepping into the man's arms, his hands sliding over the man's shoulder and into his hand, as the man's other hand rested on his waist.

" _Some day we'll say I do things we've been longing to_ ," he sang as they danced, " _Though he's far away I'll find my love some day, some day when my dreams come true_."

He spun Arthur through clouds as they danced; his non-existent touch gentle and cool against Arthur's skin.

" _Somewhere, waiting for me, there is someone I'm longing to see_ ," Their dance slowed down, the man stopping, and they leant closer to each other, their foreheads touching, Arthur warm against the man's cool visor. " _Someone I simply can't help but adore; someone who'll thrill me forever_."

They held each other there for a moment, as Arthur's singing lowered and softened.

" _Someday my prince will come, someday I will find the one_ ," he barely whispered as their lips drew closer, " _Though he's far away, he'll find my love someday,_ "

Their lips ghosted over each other, and Arthur's eyes slipped closed, and opened again to find he was still sitting at the ledge of his bedroom's window, looking up at the moon.

"…Someday when my dreams come true." He finished under his breath as he sighed, slumping backwards, brushing his fingers along his lips as his blush subsided—

" _Oh, yes, Erik—_ "

The sound of Charles' voice came unheeded to Arthur as suddenly his earlier thoughts returned with a vengeance, the uncomfortable feeling that built up in his chest as he felt slick trickling down the inside of his thighs. His blush returned full-force as the strange feeling took over him again.

Eyes wide and dilated, Arthur wrapped his arms around himself, feeling too hot but he couldn't bear to take his clothes off, not when there was  _something_  trickling down his thighs, as the familiar scent from earlier wafted to his senses—

Only this time, it had come from  _him_.

Whimpering, he squirmed around in his seat, uncomfortable squelching in his arse and thighs sending wave after wave of pleasure and embarrassment as he moved around.

An urge rose in him—

Want to be filled—must be filled fillfillfill _needthis_ fillfillfill—

Whimpering, Arthur pulled himself away from the windowsill and dropped himself against the floor, where he shivered as he looked around, at a loss on what to do.

* * *

Crown Prince Alfred Fitzgerald Jones of the Kingdom of Fantasia froze in his spot, back straightening up as he gripped the vines on the wall of the monastery so hard his knuckles turned white. A sharp scent had reached his nose—it smelt so sweet, so pure,  _so good—_ his eyes widened. He knew what this scent was. He smelled it so many times when he was living with his Omega brother Matthew.

It was the scent of an Omega in heat.

Licking his lips—when had they gone dry?—he continued climbing the wall, gritting his teeth as he felt the beast inside him stir.

"No, Alfred, calm down," he whispered to himself, heaving himself up onto the ledge of the wall, taking deep breaths, and  _oh_ , his thickening bulge in his pants wasn't helping. "Calm. Calm? I'm calm, calm,  _damn it_ —"

He fell silent upon getting hit by the scent full-force and he felt himself salivating. Reeling back like he had been physically hit, his eyes opened wide and they dilated. Quickly he righted himself and looked at where the scent was coming from. Dead ahead was an open window—he pointedly ignored the window two floors down where he could see the silhouettes of sex—and an Omega was sitting at it, garbed in the familiar brown robes of people living in monasteries.

Alfred found himself licking his lips. So, either a priest or an Omega taking shelter from the recent movement.

He should take a gamble.

"H-hey, wait!" Alfred yelled, shaking his head to clear it of dark thoughts. "I'm not sexing up  _anyone_  during tonight, not a single person!" he declared to no one but himself, "I can do this! Control! I am calm!" he couldn't help but glance at the window. The Omega was gone, and Alfred sighed, grateful.

Quickly he let himself down onto the courtyard and hurried into the pantry, where, really, he was supposed to just feed himself and get out of there, but instead he found a rather empty place where several bundles of cloth were stored. Quickly, like a man starved, he cleared out a few piles and laid on the ground there, lying back onto one as a pillow.

Gritting his teeth, he reached into his pants and guiltily grasped himself, and suddenly he even forgot what he was doing there in the first place.

* * *

Arthur woke up—when did he fall asleep? He didn't really know—to the sound of someone knocking on his door. Bleary-eyed and with his back aching like a plague, he got up, wincing at the feel of dried slick on his legs.

He opened the door, a scowl on his face.

"…Yes?" he grumbled, and his vision cleared to reveal Feliciano looking at him with surprise. "… Feliciano."

"You look like you slept on the floor," he commented, "Or like you didn't sleep at all. Are you alright?" he asked, pressing his hand on Arthur's forehead. "Oh, you're cold!"

"I'm fine," Arthur mumbled, "Nothing a bath won't fix," he yawned, "What's going on?" he asked.

"A-ah, well, Father Tino found someone sleeping in the pantry this morning, he's in the dining hall now with everyone else but when we saw that you weren't there Father Charles had asked me to go look for you."

"… Father Charles," Arthur echoed, and the images from last night came crashing back to him like a tsunami. His cheeks flared red, surprising even Feliciano, and the brunette's eyes widened.

"O-oh, Arthur!" he gasped in alarm, rushing forward to catch his friend, who swayed precariously before falling into his arms. "Are you alright?" he asked, as he struggled to hold the blonde upright. "Arthur!"

"… Hot… you have to… help me, F-Fel…" Arthur didn't finish speaking and he groaned, low and guttural, and that was when the brunette panicked.

"Father Tino! Father Charles!" he screamed.

* * *

Alfred was busy wolfing down his third piece of bread that morning (and fourth bowl of soup) when he heard someone screaming for help from the higher floors of the monastery. His eyes widened, and the Alpha knight sitting across him also looked up from his meal. The two of them looked at each other, hackles rising, as another Alpha rushed into the dining hall, eyes wide and wild.

"Charles! Tino!" he called, his voice loud and booming, "Someone needs help upstairs!"

The two priests who had found him in the pantry (he flushed at the memory that they also had found him in a… compromising situation, but they had been gracious enough to not say a thing about it, bless them) stood up from their seats, and ran after the Alpha, their white robes billowing behind them.

Alfred quickly stuffed his bread into his mouth and stood up.

"Immf goimph wipph em," he stated, and the blonde knight blinked at him. Exasperated, Alfred chewed as fast as he could, swallowing the bread and washing it down with the soup before speaking again. "I'm going with them. You coming?" he asked, and the blonde knight nodded, getting up.

"Yes," he said, "I think that was my Omega calling out."

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "…  _Your_  Omega?" he asked, and the knight smiled sheepishly.

"Well, I'm going to ask him to come with me when my master and I leave," he said, "I am Ludwig." He said, offering his hand to Alfred to shake. Alfred shook it good-naturedly.

"I'm Alfred. Call me Al." Ludwig gave him a strange glance and pointedly, he ignored it. He gestured at the doors with his thumb. "We better get going or who knows what we'll reach when we get there." He said, and Ludwig nodded.

* * *

Feliciano was bawling when the two priests and knight got there. Tino immediately went to the distressed brunette's side and tried to calm him down as Charles went for Arthur. He hesitated as he drew closer, the tell-tale scent of arousal already thickly hanging around Arthur's trembling, flushed body.

"Oh, Arthur," he sighed, gently stroking Arthur's sweat-soaked hair. He looked over his shoulder at Erik and gestured for him to come closer. The knight did as he was told, and lifted the smaller Omega from the ground. "Take him o my room. Make sure no one disturbs him," he ordered, and Erik nodded. "Oh, and Erik," the man turned to look at the brunette priest, "Do keep a short leash on your charge  _and_  our new guest, they're both still very young Alphas, you know what they are capable of."

Tino, who had managed to calm Feliciano down, cleared his throat.

"Actually," he spoke up, and the two men looked at him. "Young Feliciano here has something to tell you, Charles." He smiled down at the brunette. "Go on." He gently urged, and the brunette nodded.

"F-Father, I'm going with Ludwig on his travels," Feliciano stuttered, his cheeks flushing red. "I-I want to be bonded with him."

Charles and Erik shared looks of surprise, and eventually they nodded, the brunette smiling when he turned his attention back to Feliciano.

"Then so it shall be. Go on, then, get ready to leave. Erik and Ludwig will be leaving tomorrow morning."

"Y-yes, Father!" Feliciano's smile was so wide it made Charles and Tino melt a little at how happy he was. The brunette bounced away, cheerful, and headed off to the dining hall for breakfast. Tino followed after him after a small nod at the two men, before Charles turned to look at Erik and together they walked away.

* * *

Ludwig and Alfred never made it to the floor they should go to. They ran into Feliciano, who, delighted, threw himself into Ludwig's arms, cheering loudly and happily.

The two looked at each other for a moment, and a smile crossed Ludwig's face.

"You're coming with me?" he asked, and the brunette nodded enthusiastically. Ludwig's smile widened and he pulled the brunette into a tight hug. Alfred looked on, a gentle smile on his face, but in the back of his mind, his mission still rang clear through his mind— _run away run away why won't you fucking run away while you can, fucker?_

"Oh, Alfred, Ludwig," Tino's voice came from the top of the stairs. "Hello. I see you've sorted things out?" he asked, a knowing smile on his face. The two lovers pulled away from each other and Feliciano smiled shyly, nodding.

"That's brilliant," Tino nodded, "Now, come along, we've sorted everything out already. Let's head back to the dining hall, shall we?"

"… Father, what about that Omega Feli came up for?" Alfred ventured, and what he got in reply was a chilling glare from the blonde priest. He shivered, and the glare immediately softened into a smile. "… N-never mind," he dismissed, and followed them down the stairs.

In the back of his mind, however, gears started turning.

He knew what was happening when Omega priests act like this.

They were hiding an Omega in heat. At once, Alfred knew it was the one he smelled the night before.

* * *

Arthur woke up, groaning, to find himself lying down in a small pool of slick. Disgusted, he sat up and winced upon hearing the  _squelch_  that accompanied his movement.

"Ah, you're awake." Charles' voice floated in from outside the bedroom. The brunette priest entered the room, a mug of cocoa in his hands. "Here, take this. You'll feel better."

"A-am I sick, Father?" Arthur asked, pointedly ignoring the nagging thought of catching the priest in a…  _interesting_  situation.

"Well," Charles sighed, smiling slightly, "You're in heat, actually."

"… I'm what?" Arthur blinked, all thoughts from last night flushing from his mind at the mention of such a foreign thing. "… In heat?"

"Yes, it seems your drive to mate has been unlocked. This is your first time like this, right?" he asked, and Arthur nodded. Charles frowned slightly. "… Then there must have been something that triggered this. Do you know what?"

Arthur blushed. He  _certainly_  can't tell the priest he caught him getting intimate with their guest Alphas. At this moment, suddenly the Alpha in question entered the room, leaning against the doorway. Arthur swallowed.

"I… I don't know," he lied, and Charles' brow furrowed, but he didn't press for answers.

"Alright, then," Charles nodded, moving away from Arthur, "You're going to have to stay in here and avoid contact with anyone until it goes away."

"Wh-what? But Feliciano's leaving—"

"He'll be here to say goodbye tomorrow," Erik cut in, alarming Arthur. "You just get some sleep now, the easiest way to get through heat is to sleep it off."

Uncertainly, Arthur nodded, but he didn't miss what Charles had muttered under his breath.

" _Aside from having sex, of course_."

They left him alone in the room, flustered, face flushed red, and slick leaking out from under him, wetting his thighs thoroughly and getting onto the sheet underneath him.

* * *

Alfred was going  _crazy_.

Sitting by himself out in the courtyard (and minutely aware of the two priests watching him) he could smell the scent of the Omega in heat. His cock twitched in his pants as he clenched and unclenched his fists.

"Shit," Alfred swore. His life sucked.

First, he had run away from the palace to get away from the throne, let his dear sweet Mattie run the stupid Kingdom for him, he was the far better ruler than he was, and now  _this_ , this Omega-arousal-facilitated heat that was driving him absolutely  _mad_.

He began to minutely rock against the friction he had between the brown robes given to him and he whined quietly, desperate for attention.

And the smell was still there, fuck,  _really_?

He looked around and saw Charles loitering around the entrance to the dining hall whilst Tino was sitting at the ledge of the fountain in the middle of the courtyard. Of course they were both onto him, especially since they had seen him with his hand down his pants this morning, groaning and growing like an Alpha in heat.

Alfred winced.

In hindsight, he  _was_  in heat.

He saw two Omegas clad in brown head towards either priest, and here he knew he had only one chance.

The moment the two looked away, Alfred sneaked away, the Alpha beast in him taking over as he used his nose to seek out the Omega he had been smelling ever since he had arrived.

Quickly and quietly, he followed his nose, until he came to a door—guarded by Ludwig's master Erik.

He hissed under his breath and he hid in the corridor branching off, away from Erik's gaze.

"… What are you doing?" Ludwig asked, poking his shoulder. Alfred almost jumped out of his skin in fright, and he bit down on his lip to keep himself from crying out.

"Quiet!" he hissed, grabbing Ludwig's mouth, pulling him close. The Alpha's eyes widened upon smelling Alfred's pheromones screaming to the world his arousal.

"… Alfred, are you in heat?" he whispered, incredulous, after Alfred had let him go. The blonde prince blushed and looked away.

"Y-yeah, so what if I am," he hissed back, "L-look, your master's standing in front of my room, I want to get in if I want to take care of  _this_ ," he gestured at the tent in his trousers that was now poking through his robes. Alfred bit his lip. He wasn't thinking straight, his head was light with arousal, but it seemed Ludwig bought his lie.

Nodding knowingly, Ludwig straightened up and gestured for Alfred to wait there. He walked out onto the corridor.

"Master," he called Erik, and the man looked at him. "I have something to ask of you; it's about Feliciano."

"Oh, what about him?" Erik asked, and Ludwig sighed.

"W-well, could we talk about that somewhere private?" He asked, and the man peered at him sceptically. "Come on, please. I know you've had a relationship with an Omega before, so please, as my mentor…" he trailed off, and Erik sighed.

"Well, all right. But I have to get back here soon." He said, and the mentor and his student walked off. When Alfred had made sure they were both gone, he quickly slipped into the room, locking the door behind him.

 _Whoa_.

Here the scent of the Omega was too much to handle, and his erection hardened even more, already aching as he grit his teeth together. Arousal poured out of him in torrents as he walked forward to the bed where a small blonde Omega lay, writhing around.

"Hey," he spoke up, his voice gravelly with arousal. The blonde jolted and turned to look at him, and  _shit_ , Alfred had almost lost it.

The Omega had the most beautiful pair of eyes he had ever seen. They were beautifully welled up with tears, giving them a glassy look, as full pink lips quivered as the Omega sobbed.

"Y-your smell…" the Omega moaned, and Alfred growled. Even his voice was so erotic. The aroused Alpha turned the Omega climbed on top of him, earning him a squeak that made a grin spread across his face. "O- _oh_ , why do you smell so good?"

"You smell good too, babe," Alfred gritted out, grinding his hips against the Omega, earning him a loud wanton moan. "Oh,  _yeah_." He groaned, rutting against him like a wild animal.

"Ahh, nnh," the blonde moaned, writhing underneath him.

"What's your name, babe?" Alfred asked, burying his nose into the Omega's hair, inhaling the blonde's sweet intoxicating scent. "Tell me. I'm Alfred."

"A-a- _ahh_ —Ar-Arthur," the blonde moaned out, undulating in pleasure as Alfred ground down onto him. "Oh,  _yes_ —"

Growling, Alfred pulled his clothes off, baring himself completely to Arthur, who gasped at the sudden movement. Quickly, Alfred stripped Arthur of his clothes to find that the Omega had leaked so much it looked like he could lubricate an army. A feral grin spread across his face as he spread Arthur's legs to accommodate his girth, taking a moment to admire Arthur's dusky entrance, still leaking delicious-smelling slick continuously, before sheathing himself in, growling appreciatively as he pushed in, and in, and  _in_ —

"Oh! Yes!" Arthur gasped, hands coming up onto Alfred's arms for purchase. His nails dug into Alfred's muscles as the Alpha sheathed himself fully in, exhaling in ecstasy as tight heat embraced him so sweetly; it took what little control he had left to stop himself from coming.

"Please, please, please,  _please_ ," Arthur begged, weakly moving, moving Alfred's cock in and out of him slowly with sticky wet noises. "Oh,  _please_."

"Sure thing, Arthur," Alfred purred, before beginning to thrust. He  _certainly_  liked saying this beautiful little Omega's name. He could say it again and again and not get tired of it.

"Ah-ah-Al- _Alfred_ ," Arthur gasped as his thrusts increased in power, going deeper and deeper, filling him up more and more—

"Ah!" Arthur let out a scream and Alfred knew he had hit his Omega's sweet little spot.

Mercilessly he abused it, hitting it over and over again, until Arthur let out one loud whine. Alfred saw what was coming, and bit down on the crook of Arthur's neck, leaving behind a blazing red mark of possession, that Arthur was  _his_ now and only  _his,_ and now they were forever bonded till death did them part. Arthur let out a positively  _pitiful_ sound and came, his cock, pink and untouched and bouncing between them, spilling out white liquid that painted his and Alfred's stomach with white.

The clench was  _heavenly_  around Alfred, and he couldn't take it anymore and came, his vision whiting out as he spilled himself inside Arthur. Smiling contentedly, he felt himself knotting inside Arthur's still so-tight entrance, and slumped down on top of the smaller blonde.

"H-hey, wait," Arthur protested, and Alfred kissed him gently.

"Quiet," he mumbled, "Love you…" he trailed off, before falling asleep, finally sated.

* * *

Arthur blinked.

He just fell in love with one of the most handsome men he had ever seen.

He just met the prince he was waiting for.

Most importantly, he just had the most mind-blowing sex ever.

That was his first time, even.

What was more… Arthur touched his neck and winced as he felt the pain of the bruise on it sting across him like a bee.

He had just bonded with an Alpha.

 _His_  Alpha, now, actually.

"… Whoa." He managed to say, before blacking out.

Well, at least he had managed to beat Feliciano to it.

* * *

They were met with the scolding of a lifetime, from both Tino and Charles (although, really, they were angrier at Alfred more than Arthur) and Erik gave them the most frightening look that may or may not be nightmare fuel in the near future.

Ludwig was absolutely disappointed at Alfred, but in private, he had patted the blonde on the shoulder and gave him a small thumbs-up.

Now, hand in hand, Arthur and Alfred travelled with Erik, Ludwig and Feliciano, now nursing a still-not-quite-so-pregnant Arthur as they travelled.

In the time they had spent together during their travels they got to know each other, and Arthur was  _elated_  to hear he had bonded with a real life prince. When news reached them that Matthew, Alfred's brother, was crowned the new king, he and Arthur returned to his kingdom to live there instead.

In the end, Arthur's prince really did come, just like as he wished.

Just… maybe in an unorthodox way.

THE END.


	12. I'll Make a Man Out of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GENRE: Romance, Historical-ish?  
> RATING: T+  
> WARNINGS: Captain America AU, baby!Tony Stark being adorable, killing people, WWII general depressery.  
> PAIRING/S: USUK, Alfred/Arthur(America/England); Steve Rogers/Peggy Carter
> 
>  
> 
> Alfred is scrawny puny little thing that enlists into the American force for the Great War. Little does he know who’s got his eye on him. Captain America/Avengers AU, where Steve isn’t Cap but Alfred instead and also, baby!Tony.

"You sure you're going to go through with this?" Steve asked, looking over Alfred's shoulder, making a worried face as he looked at the man's filled-out forms, all full of falsified information.

"I gotta," Alfred replied, closing the folder in his hands to look up at the taller man, already donning his military uniform. "Mattie and Ma  _need_  me, Steve," he sighed wistfully, looking down at the forms with pride brimming in his eyes. "My Pop died serving the country. It's what he would have wanted of me."

Steve bit his lip, and patted the smaller blonde's shoulder.

"You're a good kid, Al," he said, "But you're… not really…" he trailed off, unsure on what to say.

"Oh, come on," Alfred grinned, elbowing the taller man. "Work with me, pal, I gotta get in the army!"

Steve sighed, and nodded, defeated. "Just don't say I didn't warn you." He said, before gesturing for Alfred to follow him inside, into the enlistment centre.

* * *

"Arrhythmia, asthma, slight muscle atrophy," the inspector listed down dryly, eyeing Alfred sceptically. "I'm not even going to go through this. You sure you have clearance for this?" he asked, as Alfred bounced in his seat, waiting for the man to give him his verdict. The blonde nodded quickly, and the doctor looked sceptical.

"… Right." He nodded slowly, before turning his attention back to the papers. Alfred swallowed thickly, his heart pounding in his chest as he waited for the man to finish reading over his medical records. "Look, son, you—" he stopped talking, sighing, before shaking his head. "Look, we can't send you in there. You just don't have the proper… health for it."

"What?" Alfred gasped, standing up. "Th-that's not  _fair_! I'm just as okay as the other guy next door!"

"Not exactly," the man shook his head, before handing him his papers back. "I'm sorry, but no, it just won't happen."

Gritting his teeth, Alfred fought back the angry tears that attempted to spill from his eyes, his throat clenching painfully as his eyes started to heat up. Nodding, he sharply turned on his heel and walked out of the enlistment centre, where Steve was standing, waiting for him.

"… Not good?" he asked, and Alfred shook his head. His friend sighed and patted his head, stroking his hair fondly. "It's okay," he gently said, and Alfred took his hand and took it off his head, shaking it as he sighed.

"No, no it's not, Steve," he said, "Not like this."

Steve sighed, and he shook his head fondly, before wrapping his arm around Alfred's shoulders, squeezing them comfortingly.

"Tell you what," he said, "Stark's got an exhibition of future technologies tonight and I got an invite. Want to come with me?" he smiled, knowing how much technology excited his best friend. A smile crossed Alfred's face—it was tired, slightly strained, but Steve knew it was as honest as it could get, in light of the circumstances they were in.

"Yeah," Alfred nodded, and Steve grinned.

"Great. I'll see you tonight then. Feel better, okay, buddy?" he asked, ruffling Alfred's hair and the blonde nodded dejectedly. "I gotta go, Bucky's calling me," he chuckled, "Take care, okay?"

"Yep," Alfred nodded, before weakly waving at Steve as he walked away.

Left alone on the streets of New York City, Alfred watched the taller blonde walk away to meet up with his friends in arms, shoulders slumping.

_Why can't I be like them? Am I not man enough?_

He walked away, kicking his feet along, dragging them across the ground, sending small rocks and pebbles rolling away as he did so, looking down at the ground, disappointment running through him thick and burning, bringing back hot tears back to his eyes as he walked. Biting down on his lip to keep them from falling, Alfred's free hand balled into a fist as he walked into an alleyway—before he let out a growl of frustration, punching the wall as hard as he could.

Wincing, he pulled away, gasping as the pain from the punch recoiled through his arm. His knuckles were bleeding but he didn't care. He was too angry, too  _disappointed_  to care.

What was it he was doing wrong? All he wanted was to follow in his father's footsteps.

Was that such a sin?

* * *

Later that evening, Steve had come to meet Alfred at the local bar, smiling brightly, as by his side was a pretty young woman. He introduced her to Alfred as Peggy Carter, a British agent he had met while he was on the field.

Feeling out of place and like a third wheel, Alfred lagged behind the two, hands shoved in his pockets as he walked, looking around at the inventions as he pointedly kept himself from eavesdropping on Steve and Peggy.

"Steve!" an unfamiliar voice called, and even Alfred lifted his head to see Howard Stark himself approaching them, a glass of champagne in one hand and his other holding the hand of a little boy that was peering out at them from behind his pants. "It's so good to see you!" he smiled brightly, letting go of the boy's hand to shake Steve's hand. The boy hid further behind the man's leg, and Alfred found himself stepping forward and leaning down to look at the boy in the eye.

"Hey there, little guy," he gently greeted, keeping his gaze kind as he offered his hand to the little boy. "My name's Alfred. What's yours?"

"Oh, hello," Peggy spoke up beside him, and Alfred turned his head to see that even Peggy had bent down to address the boy whilst Stark and Steve talked. "You're a lovely little darling, hello." She smiled, and Alfred found himself smiling.

"Ma'am," he nodded in greeting, and she turned to face him. She nodded curtly at him.

"Jones," she replied in acknowledgement, and the two of them returned their attention to the little boy now slowly inching out from behind Stark's pant leg.

"Hey there," Alfred tried again, holding out his hand, his smile gentle as he softly gestured for the boy to take his hand. "What's your name, kid?"

"… I'm Tony." The boy mumbled, gingerly taking Alfred's hand, and the man smiled gently as the boy's small fingers curled around his.

"Hello, Tony." Peggy smiled, reaching forward to stroke the boy's black hair. "My name is Peggy."

"Miss… Peggy." Tony repeated, and the woman nodded. "And… you're Mr. Alfred?"

"Al is fine," Alfred smiled, "Is Mr. Stark your daddy?"

"Mhm." Tony nodded, and Peggy and Alfred's smiles grew a little wider at how cute the little boy was. "I-is that man Mr. R-Rogers?"

"Why, yes, darling," Peggy nodded, "You know Mr. Rogers?"

"I-I heard he was doing awesome stuff in the war, l-like, there was one time," Tony took a deep breath, cheeks puffing red, "They said, he took down this entire base, like it was _huuuge_!" the little boy waved his arms, removing his grip from Alfred's hand and his father's pants to emphasize his point, and Peggy and Alfred chuckled, nodding for the little boy to continue his story. "And, and, he was a hero! H-he saved a lot of people an' stuff."

"Do you want to be a soldier someday, Tony?" Alfred asked, smiling slightly, and the boy nodded wildly.

"Yeah! I wanna be like Mr. Rogers!"

Steve and Howard had heard the boy's shout, and a sheepish smile spread across Steve's face, as Howard's grin widened. The man patted his son's back and gently pushed him forward in Steve's direction as Alfred and Peggy straightened up.

"This is my son, Tony." He introduced to the man, grinning. "Come on, Tony, go say hi. Didn't you say you wanted to be like him?"

Blushing, the boy just hid his face behind his father's pant leg again, and the blonde soldier laughed softly, kneeling down and ruffling Tony's hair. "Hey there, little guy." He greeted.

"H-hello, Mr. Rogers." The boy mumbled, before hiding again. He turned his head to look around, and when his eyes met Alfred's, the man spread his arms, and the boy ran towards him, hiding behind  _his_  leg this time.

The four with him laughed fondly, and Howard shook his head.

"Kids. They're so cute." He chuckled, "Well, I gotta go," he gave Steve and Peggy a mock salute and a nod to Alfred. "It was nice talking to you again, Rogers. Take care of my son while I'm gone." He said, before walking away.

"Well, it seems little Tony's taken a liking to you, Al," Steve smiled, and the blonde chuckled, patting the boy's head as he determinedly hid behind Alfred, staring up at Steve like he was a monument to be ogled. "Think you can hang onto him?"

"Don't mind me," Alfred chuckled, "You enjoy the night with Miss Carter." He nodded at the woman, who chuckled lightly, before wrapping her arm around Steve's. The blonde soldier nodded at Alfred, and together, they walked away. Smiling down at Tony, Alfred sighed.

"So, buddy, it's just you and me now. Where do you want to go?"

"I wanna en… enlist," the boy struggled to say the word, but he had managed. Alfred's eyes widened.

"H-hey, you can't, you're just a kid." He said, bending down to look Tony in the eye.

"But so are you!" Tony protested, "Why can't  _I_  go?"

"Oh, Tony," Alfred smiled, shaking his head. "It's dangerous. When you're older, you'll understand." He said, stroking the boy's hair, before getting up once more.

"That's what everyone says," Tony pouted, taking Alfred's hand when it was offered to him. Together they walked, looking at the exhibits around them. "Al?" he asked, and the blonde man nodded, looking down at him. "Why do people go to war?"

"Well, people go for all sorts of reasons." Alfred reasoned, shrugging, and Tony pouted, his little forehead creasing in thought as the boy looked at him with critical big brown eyes.

"What's your reason?" he asked.

"Well," Alfred paused for a moment, thinking it through. "You see, my Pop was a soldier in the war too." He said after a while. "He did a lot of good during the war, serving America like a good soldier." He sighed, looking down at where he was holding Tony's small hand. "I wanted so much to be like him. I want to serve America." He grasped Tony's hand, determined, completely unaware of a man that was standing just a few ways away from them, within earshot. "I want to do good things, Tony. I want to protect the people, like you."

"Like me?" Tony blinked.

"Well, yeah." Alfred smiled, patting the boy's head with his free hand. "You're one of the children of America, Tony. You hold the future in your hands."

"My hands?" Tony asked, bringing up his free hand and looking at his two hands, the other one still holding onto Alfred's. "You mean… I can save America too?"

"Well, sort of," Alfred chuckled, "You can definitely make it a much better place than it is now."

"But America's good as it is," the boy replied, his forehead creasing, not understanding what Alfred had meant.

"You can make it so much better." Alfred smiled. "You'll find out when you're older." Tony pouted, and the man laughed. "But, yeah, that's why I want to be in the army, really."

"… Oh, okay. Hey, why aren't  _you_  in a uniform? Mr. Rogers was in a uniform, and Miss Peggy, too."

"Well, they didn't let me in." Alfred sighed, disappointment once again stabbing him in his chest, and the boy cocked his head.

"Why not?" the boy asked, "You just said earlier you wanted to be in the army and those were good reasons! Why won't they let you?"

"Life's difficult like that," Alfred reasoned, and Tony shook his head.

"Doesn't mean you have to give up." Tony shrugged. "That's what my pop tells me sometimes."

Alfred fell silent for a moment, and he and Tony stared at each other. The little boy grinned and winked (a gesture later known as the Stark Lady KillerTM) at the taller man.

"Go for it!" he smiled, and Alfred's face broke out in a grin.

"Let's go then, Tony!" he laughed brightly, "Who knows, they might even let you in!"

"Really?" the boy asked, starry-eyed. Inside, Alfred died a little. He probably shouldn't have said that.

"S-sure," he stuttered, before leading the boy to the enlistment centre.

Unbeknownst to him, a man had already beaten him there, listing him down as one of the applicants.

* * *

"Mr. Jones?" a nurse called out and Alfred's head snapped up to attention.

"Y-yes!" he called, turning his attention away from Tony, who had somehow managed to fall asleep on his shoulder while they were waiting. One of the nurses, giggling at the cute scene, offered to take the little boy to a room to sleep in. Alfred nodded to her his thanks before rushing to the desk.

"This way, please." He was led into a small room, with a bed on it. Sighing, he sat down on the bed, lanky limbs and all, and waited.

It didn't take long for a man to step inside. For a long, tense moment, he and Alfred merely stared at each other, and finally the man spoke.

"So, you want to go overseas and kill some Nazis?"

"… Excuse me?" Alfred blinked.

The man smiled slightly. "Dr. Abraham Erskine. I represent the Strategic Scientific Reserve." He held out his hand for Alfred to shake and the man took it, shaking it.

"Alfred Jones." He said, and the man let go of his hand to set the folder in his other down onto the bed next to Alfred. "So, uh, where're you from?"

"Germany." The man replied. He turned his head slightly to look at Alfred. "Does that bother you?"

"O-oh, no," Alfred stuttered, "Uh, just, curious."

The man looked at him for a moment before looking down at the files.

"Where are _you_  from, Mr. Jones?" he asked, "Is it Miami? Or Philadelphia, or maybe—"

"Th-those might not be the right files," Alfred cut in, panic settling in his stomach. Had they found out he had falsified his documents?

"Five different places, for five different tries." The man said simply, turning to look at Alfred as he gaped at him. "It is not the files I am interested in, Mr. Jones, it is the five tries." He stepped forward to look down at Alfred. "Now, do you want to kill Nazis?"

"…" Alfred bit his lip. "Is this a test?"

The man only looked at him.

Alfred sighed. "… Look, I don't really want to kill anyone, I don't care where they're from." He took a deep breath. "I just…" he trailed off, and the man smiled at him slightly.

"… Well, we've already got so many big guys fighting in the war, maybe…" he looked at Alfred. "We need a little one now." Alfred stared at him as he started pacing around the small room. "I can offer you a chance." He turned around and started heading out the door. " _Only_  a chance."

"I'll take it!" Alfred gasped, walking out after the man, who had walked up to the desk to pick up a stamp on the table.

"So," the man turned to look at him as he stamped the file in the folder. "Where is the little guy from, actually?"

A small smile crossed Alfred's face. "… Brooklyn."

* * *

Tony had been  _so_  disappointed he hadn't been able to enlist, and Steve was both pleasantly surprised and shocked at the form Alfred waved in front of his face, a triumphant grin on his face.

"You  _got it_?" he laughed incredulously when he saw it, gaping at the stamp that said in bold black, '1A'. "Oh, my… Alfred, this is amazing!"

"I know!" Alfred grinned brightly. "I feel  _incredible_!"

"You're incredible!" Steve laughed, patting the man on his back. "How did you do it?"

"I…" a small smile crossed Alfred's face. "I passed a test."

* * *

Tony was crying when Alfred had said goodbye. He offered the little boy exasperated promises that he would do  _everything_  he could to get the boy in the army, whilst Steve chuckled at him in the background as Howard howled with laughter at his feeble attempts to calm his little boy down.

In the end he managed to calm Tony down by telling him that good, strong soldiers didn't cry. Immediately the boy fell silent, and Alfred awkwardly patted his head.

"Stay good, now." He said. "You can be a soldier here, too. Protect your friends, all of them."

Tony nodded, pouting to keep his emotions in check, and Steve patted Alfred's shoulder.

"Come on," he said, gesturing over his shoulder. "Let's go."

"Bye, Tony." Alfred smiled, waving slightly at the little boy as he and Steve walked out the door.

"Bye, Al," the boy waved back, and kept waving until the door closed behind them.

* * *

Agent Arthur Kirkland stared down at the line of men standing in front of him, a stern expression on his face as he drew his cold acid-green eyes down and over each and every man standing still as a pole in front of him, critically eyeing them, already making note of their strengths, weaknesses—

He did a double-take, and blinked down at a scrawny young man with golden blonde hair standing in line with the other men, all more burly and muscular than he was. The scrawny little man stuck out like a sore thumb.

He frowned slightly and came to a stop in front of one of the men. He heard the man chuckle and he turned his head sharply to glare at him.

"Soldier?" he sharply asked, and the man merely grinned at him.

"Was just wonderin' how a pretty little thing like you got into the US army," the man replied, "Sir."

Arthur glared at him, taking a step back.

"Step forward, soldier." He said curtly, and the man did as he was told. "Stick out your leg."

"Y'know, I've got better moves than this," he grinned, waggling his eyebrows at Arthur. "And I'm pretty sure you're going ta  _love_  them."

Arthur grit his teeth together and sent his fist flying. The man groaned and fell to the floor, gasping in alarm.

"Agent Kirkland!" a man's voice caught his attention and he turned to see two men climbing out of a jeep and walk up to him.

"Col. Phillips," he greeted, moving out of the way as the man inspected the men—and the man lying down on the floor as a result of Arthur's punch.

"See you're breaking 'em in already." The man commented. "Get yourself back in that line of attention until somebody tells you what to do." He ordered the man on the ground. Immediately he stood up and let out a gruff, "Yes, sir!"

Phillips cleared his throat. "Alright, listen up!" he looked at all of them, getting ready to speak, when he spotted the newest recruit—Alfred Jones. He groaned slightly and sighed.

* * *

"Move it ladies, move it!" Arthur bellowed, arms crossed as the soldiers scrabbled up the rope ladder. His eyes followed the scrawny man and inwardly he sighed. He knew Dr. Erskine was sure of what he was doing, but  _really_ , with someone like  _Jones_?

Ah, the man had fallen back.

"Jones!" Arthur yelled, "Put your back into it! Are you man enough?" he taunted, and the blonde man started with renewed vigour. Sighing slightly, Arthur crossed his arms and leaned back against the jeep as he watched the soldiers scrabble through the course. "Move, move, move! Do you think you slow gits will survive at the speed you're going?" he yelled, egging them on faster as they manoeuvred through the obstacle course. "I don't think so! Hustle, ladies!"

It seemed to work a little, and the men pressed on with vigour.

Of course, only Jones was left behind. Arthur sighed.

Well, at least the little guy was determined. But was it enough?

* * *

"Faster! Come on, faster!"

The men ran along the dirt path in time with each other as a man standing beside Arthur on the jeep ordered them along as the jeep slowed down to a halt just past a flagpole.

"Squad, halt!" the men came to a stop—of course, with Jones lagging behind as always—right in front of the flagpole.

"This flag here means you've just reached the halfway point!" the man yelled, as Jones finally caught up, panting, doubling over on his knees. "First man to bring it back here with me gets a ride back with Agent Kirkland!"

"Agent Barton!" Arthur's voice called from the jeep, scolding, but the man paid him no need.

"Go, go, go!" he yelled, and all the men scrambled for the flagpole, each trying their best to climb up. "Move it! This army's seen worse!"

Arthur rolled his eyes, looking up from his clipboard to watch the pitiful sight of the men scrambling up the pole to get the flag. He sighed.

"No one's gotten that flag in 17 years," he spoke up, catching the attention of the men. "Now, fall back in the line!" he ordered, and reluctantly, the men went to do as they were told. "Fall in! Get back to formation!"

Agent Barton rolled his eyes, snickering slightly—and turned to see Jones approaching the flagpole.

"Jones! He said fall in!" he barked as the blonde approached the pole. " _Jones_!"

Alfred ignored him and approached the base, pulling out the large screws holding it up and it fell to the ground. All of them stared at him, dumbfounded, as he picked up the flag from the ground and handed it to Agent Barton. He then proceeded to climb into the jeep in the back. Arthur turned his head to look at Alfred, who only smiled sheepishly smiled at him, tipping his hat to him.

A blush blossomed across Arthur's cheeks, and quickly, he turned away to hide his blush as the jeep drove on, Agent Barton barking orders to the men behind them to run faster.

* * *

"Faster, ladies!" Arthur ordered, walking amongst the two lines of men doing push-ups. "Haven't I made you into men? Give me proof!" he stepped down on one of them, pushing him down lower, letting off as the man gasped in surprise.

"Move! My grandmother has more energy than that, God bless her soul," he ordered, walking around, critically eyeing them. "Move, girls!"

Phillips and Dr. Erskine stood next to each other beside the supply truck, watching the men as they followed Arthur's orders.

"You're seriously not thinking about choosing Jones, are you?" the man asked, said more as a statement rather than a question.

Dr. Erskine nodded. "Not just thinking. I am sure he is the one."

"For Christ's sake, doctor, you will not believe what I had to do to get this project running. Why won't you—"

"Jones is the one. I am not looking for qualities of the physical type," the man cut him off sternly.

"Doctor, wars are not won by niceness. They are won by guns." Phillips remarked dryly, before pulling out a dummy grenade from one of the boxes and pulling off its pin and handle. He tossed it at the men (currently doing jumping jacks) nonchalantly.

"Grenade!" He yelled, and at once, all the men dove for cover—save for Jones, who threw himself over the grenade. Arthur's eyes widened and he stepped forward, when Jones lifted his head to look at him.

"Get away!" he yelled, "Get back!" he curled himself over the grenade, trembling slightly, as Arthur, Dr. Erskine and Phillips shared a look.

Alfred looked up from where he was curled up to look up at the doctor.

"Dummy grenade," Phillips declared, and Alfred blinked at him.

"Is this a test?" he asked, and Dr. Erskine merely smiled at him. Phillips pushed past him, alarming the doctor.

"He's still skinny." He simply said, before walking away.

* * *

"I know this neighbourhood," Alfred spoke up, catching Arthur's attention. "I got beat up in that alley," he said, pointing at one of they alleys they drove by. "… And that parking lot... and that diner." Alfred fell silent, hanging his head.

Arthur looked at him, and Alfred chuckled weakly.

"Oh, what the hell." He chuckled self-depreciatingly, "You probably don't want to hear about what a big loser I am," he said, and Arthur shook his head.

"I know what it's like," he said, "Having driven into you that you're weaker than you really are."

Alfred looked at him for a moment, blushing slightly, and looked away, embarrassed. "Well, it's just that," he struggled with his words. "I have no idea how such a pretty dame," He hesitated, "I, I mean,  _guy_ , I mean, you  _are_  pretty, but," Alfred gestured uselessly with his hands, "Ah, shit, I'm so sorry."

Arthur chuckled. "It's alright, I get that a lot," he assured the man. "You've no idea how to talk to people, do you?"

"Well, I just thought it wasn't really necessary, you know," he shrugged, blushing slightly.

"So you've never danced."

"Never. Figured I'd just wait." Alfred shrugged.

"Wait for what?" Arthur asked.

"Wait for the right partner." He looked at Arthur, and their eyes met.

A blush spread across Arthur's face, and quickly, the agent turned away, his cheeks a nice shade of pink.

Alfred felt his cheeks colouring too, and they stayed silent for the rest of the trip.

* * *

"H-hey, where are we?" Alfred asked as the car came to a stop right in front of an antiques store.

"Just follow me," Arthur said, walking straight inside, where an old woman met up with him.

"Wonderful weather this morning, isn't it?" The woman said, and Arthur gave her a small smile.

"Yes, but I always carry an umbrella." He replied, and the woman walked up to the desk to press an alarm button under it. Arthur walked on towards the back of the shop, and Alfred rushed to follow him.

They reached the back, where a pair of bookshelves slid open to reveal a hidden science facility inside. Alfred's eyes widened as he and Arthur walked in, passing by lab after lab, until Arthur came to a stop in front of a pair of double-doors. They opened from the inside, and he and Alfred stepped in to see a laboratory inside, a strange machine set up in the middle of it all as scientists bustled about in fixing up final touches.

Alfred gaped at the sight below him, and the entire room fell silent, all pairs of eyes on him.

Uncomfortable silence filled the room, as Alfred saw Howard Stark standing at the front of it all, looking up at Alfred with an intrigued look in his eyes.

Suddenly the silence was pierced with a cry.

"Al!" little Tony ran up to him and hugged his legs. Surprised, Alfred was taken aback for a moment, before smiling warmly, leaning down to pat the little boy's head. That seemed to have broken the tension, everyone returning to what it was they were doing, albeit with a bit more excitement than before.

"Tony, little guy!" Alfred smiled when Tony let go of his legs. He knelt down to look the boy in the eye and ruffled his hair. "How've you been? Have you been a good soldier for me?"

"Yep!" the little boy smiled brightly, "I've been on my best beh… beh…" he struggled to say the word, and Arthur, smiling softly, patted the boy's head.

"Behaviour, love." He said, and the boy nodded.

"Yeah! Behaviour! Just like you said, Al!"

"That's great," Alfred nodded, standing up to look at Arthur. "… Just… great."

Arthur's smile disappeared and he nodded solemnly at Alfred, before taking the little boy's hand in his. "Sorry, love, but Alfred is needed downstairs."

"Okay, but you have to tell me what happened in the training camp, okay?" the boy demanded, and Alfred laughed weakly.

"You got it, sport." He nodded.

"Promise?" Tony asked, his eyes wide with curiosity.

"Promise," Alfred nodded, and Tony let himself be led away by Arthur, back to where Col Phillips was.

Uneasily, Alfred made his way down to the machine, where Dr. Erskine was waiting for him.

"Good morning," he greeted, and Alfred shook his hand. Suddenly there was a flash of a camera's light, temporarily stunning him, and Alfred blinked several times to get his vision back. "Please," he heard the doctor say to the photographer, "Not now." The man left, before he turned back to face Alfred.

"Are you ready?" he asked, and nervously, Alfred nodded. "… Good. Take off your shirt and hat."

Hastily, Alfred did as he was told, as he spotted Arthur returning to his side, gently taking his shirt and hat from him, before setting it down on a seat nearby. Gingerly, he eyed the metal bed of the machine, and clambered on top of it, slowly lying down as trepidation pulsated through his head.

"Comfortable?" Dr. Erskine asked, as Alfred settled down.

"… It's a little… big." Alfred said after a moment, and the man chuckled, before turning away.

"Mr. Stark? How are your levels?"

"Levels at 100%," the man replied, looking down at Alfred for a moment. "I may dim the lights of half of Brooklyn… but we're good to go." He nodded, before walking away.

"Agent Kirkland, don't you think you'd be more comfortable up in the booth?" he heard the doctor ask Arthur, and Alfred strained his neck to see Arthur nod, before heading up the stairs, where Tony met him halfway, hand latched firmly onto the man's hand. Arthur looked back at him, and gave him a small encouraging smile. A small smile made its way on Alfred's face as he watched the two of them enter the booth, and he relaxed, lowering his head, sighing deeply.

Dr. Erskine had begun to talk after that, but Alfred couldn't register what he was saying, too fixated on the sight of scientists strapping him down as they brought out several syringes filled with a blue substance. Alfred's eyes widened slightly as they pressed down two panels over his pectoral muscles.

A nurse came over and stuck a needle into him as the scientists loaded the large blue syringes in holes at either side of him as Dr. Erskine approached his side. Wincing as the nurse pulled the needle out, he looked up at the man.

"That wasn't so bad," he said, and the man shrugged.

"That was penicillin." He said, and Alfred's eyes widened, as he turned away. "Serum infusion beginning in 5, 4, 3…" Alfred closed his eyes, breathing deeply as two more panels pressed against his arms.

"2…" the man gently touched Alfred's shoulder. "… 1."

Alfred winced, his face contorting into one of discomfort and pain as he felt needles prick into him, the serum flowing into him through them—

He gasped, and his eyes flew open, as Dr. Erskine spoke again.

"Mr. Stark." He nodded at the man, and Alfred felt the machine rise upwards until he was upright, a metal casing covering him from all sides. Outside, he could hear the man's muffled voice after he knocked.

"Alfred? Can you hear me?"

Alfred laughed weakly.

"Probably too late to go to the bathroom, right?" he asked.

Outside, he heard the man speak. "We will proceed."

Suddenly light engulfed him.

* * *

Arthur was on the edge of his seat, holding onto Tony's small hand like a lifeline as he watched the inside of the steel container light up, Howard's steady counting building up the tension in Arthur's chest—

Suddenly he could hear Alfred screaming. His eyes widened, and Tony buried his head in his shoulder.

"Is Al going to be okay…?" he weakly asked, and Arthur hugged the boy close.

"Of course he is, love," he muttered to him, but even he himself wasn't so sure.

Alfred's screaming intensified, and Tony's grip on his hand tightened. Arthur couldn't take it anymore. He stood up, and with Tony in tow, he walked out of the booth.

"Shut it down!" he yelled, his heart thumping far too loudly in his ears for his liking "Shut it down!" he pressed, his tone more urgent.

"Mr. Stark! Kill the reactor, kill it!"

Howard made a move to shut down the reactor, when Alfred cried out.

"Don't!" he yelled from inside. "I can do this!"

Howard stared at the container for a moment, before immediately getting back to the controller, turning it up further, until it was at 100%. Arthur's breathing turned shallow as worry clenched his throat, Tony whimpering weakly at his side, face buried in his hip as he turned away to look.

The controls began to spark everywhere, alarming scientists left and right, but Arthur was far too absorbed with what was happening to Alfred to notice.

Suddenly the light inside the container died down and everything fell silent as the container began to hiss.

"Mr. Stark!" Dr. Erskine called, and the man hurriedly pressed the release controls. The container opened with a hiss, revealing Alfred—

 _Much_ more different than before, now with large, defined muscles, more taller than he was, tousled hair and sweaty body proof of the exertion he had been going through to handle the pain of change.

He was panting as he got down from the machine with the help of Dr. Erskine and Howard, as people let out murmurs of success as people began to walk out of the booth to go down to where they were.

"We did it," Alfred weakly said, and Dr. Erskine nodded.

"We did it," he confirmed, as Howard nodded, dazed.

"You actually did it," he breathed, as Arthur ran up to them leaving Tony behind in his excitement. He was panting for a moment, before he finally gathered enough breath to talk properly.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

"Taller," Alfred panted, and Arthur nodded, slightly flustered, before gingerly reaching out to touch his newly-formed muscles.

"Y-you look taller," he nodded, handing Alfred a shirt, embarrassed, helping him put it on.

"Hey!" Tony cried out from the back of the suddenly-huge crowd of people around, "Hey! Al!" he jumped up and down, but it was in vain. Behind him, he didn't notice the man looming over him.

Dr. Erskine looked at the back of the crowd, apparently hearing Tony over the din, and his eyes widened as he saw the man behind him take out a lighter. His mouth began to open in warning—

Suddenly the booth above them exploded, and Arthur sprang into action, pulling out a handgun from his side, and running up to the bomber standing by the stairs as he pulled out the last syringe with the serum in it.

Tony let out a cry of alarm when the bomb went off, and suddenly the man grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and pulled him up as a human shield.

"Stop him!" Dr. Erskine yelled, and the man pointed his gun at him and shot him once, twice—and he dropped down onto the floor. Alfred's eyes widened and he ran to the man's side as Arthur took careful aim and fired at the man, hitting him on his shoulder, the bullet just barely grazing past little Tony's ear.

"That's my  _son_!" Howard howled from behind them, and Arthur swore, before climbing up the stairs after the man, who shot down everyone who got into his path as he used Tony as his human shield.

Alfred gaped down at Dr. Erskine, who weakly raised his hand and pressed his finger right over his heart. At once, he knew what the man was saying, and suddenly, he died in his arms.

* * *

Arthur ran out of the antique shop just in time to see the man and his accomplice drive off with Tony with them, kicking and screaming as he tried to get away. Gritting his teeth, he took careful aim—and fired.

It hit the man's accomplice straight through his head and he fell forward, dead, crashing the car into a yellow taxi that was driving by.

The driver got out of his car to yell at them, only the assassin (with Tony still struggling in his arms) had barrelled right past him and stole the car, shoving the boy into the passenger seat next to him before speeding down the road, right towards Arthur. Growling, the man fired at the man as he drove right at him, Tony screaming at him to get out of the way—

Suddenly he was tackled to the ground by Alfred, the both of them grunting as they hit the ground. The taxi drove right past them, and Arthur swore at Alfred.

"I had him!" he yelled, as Alfred got up.

"You were about to get killed!" he protested, and Arthur fell silent, before shaking his head, quickly making his way to a car. He turned his head to tell Alfred to join him—when the man was suddenly gone.

* * *

Alfred tumbled over cars as he ran with new super-speed, catching up to the taxi without problem, hanging onto it until it crashed into the harbour.

"Tony!" he yelled, getting thrown off the car as it swerved precariously to the left. He landed heavily on the ground a few metres away. He kicked off the ground, using the shift in his momentum to propel him forward, and he managed to yank the passenger side door clean off.

"Al!" he heard Tony yell for him, when suddenly the assassin climbed out of the taxi, arm wrapped around Tony's waist as he hoisted the little boy up, gun in the air, pointed at him.

The man fired three shots, and Alfred hid behind the door, using it as a makeshift shield, before he ran off deeper into the docks. Quickly, Alfred ran after him, but as he turned a corner—

"Stop right there or the kid dies!" he yelled at him, gun pointed at Tony's temple, the little boy quivering in his grip. "Don't you dare move!"

Alfred tossed aside the door and held his hands up in defence. "Let the kid go!" he demanded, "He has nothing to do with this!"

"Not until—"

The man got cut off when suddenly two gunshots rang clear out. The man slumped to the ground, revealing behind him Arthur, holding a gun with a smoking barrel.

"… Agent Kirkland," Alfred breathed, and Arthur dismissively waved him off, running towards them, before embracing the trembling Tony into his arms. The little boy sobbed into his shoulder as he soothingly stroked the boy's hair to calm him down.

Alfred let out a sigh, slumping down with them, also pulling Tony into a hug.

"Almost lost you there, buddy," he said, and the boy turned around in Arthur's arms to hug him as well, tightly, like if he let go Alfred would disappear. The man looked at Arthur, who was looking at him with a soft expression on his face. "Thanks for coming here on time."

"I-it was nothing," Arthur stuttered, his cheeks flushing pink. "Just doing my duty," he looked away, but his reddening cheeks were still very much visible. "Th-the car's just outside." He said, before turning to collect the stolen syringe from the dead man's front pocket.

Alfred smiled, shaking his head fondly.

"Come on, buddy, let's get you back." He said to Tony, and Arthur turned on his heel to walk away. He stood up, easily carrying the boy in his arms, and followed Arthur out of the docks.

* * *

Arthur didn't want to admit it, but the sight of Alfred carrying little Tony in his arms with ease sent warm waves washing over him like the gentle sweep of calm waves. A blush was permanently on his face as he drove back to the antiques store, Alfred sitting in the front passenger seat next to him with Tony cradled in his arms, having cried himself to sleep.

"So, uh," Alfred spoke up. "You up for that dance we were talking about?"

Arthur peered at him from the corner of his eye, and unwillingly, a smile spread across his face.

"Well, are you man enough, Jones?" he asked, chuckling slightly.

"Ah, well," Alfred laughed, "You  _have_  made a man out of me."

Arthur chuckled, flushing, as Alfred leaned in (careful to not wake up the sleeping little boy) and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.

"Well, then." Arthur stopped at a red light to face Alfred. "It's a date." He smiled.

"A date," Alfred repeated, chuckling slightly, before leaning in to kiss Arthur.

It was warm, and gentle, and—

"Eew, why are you two kissing?" Tony asked, bleary-eyed as he sat up in Alfred's lap.

The two men looked at each other for a moment, and laughed.

"A man out of you, indeed." Arthur nodded, stepping on the gas as the light turned green.


	13. Once Upon a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GENRE: Romance, Horror, Smut  
> RATING: NC-17  
> WARNINGS: Graphic depictions murder, cannibalism, blood drinking, excessive fapping, dubious consent!narcissism, long-distance sexing, black magic.  
> PAIRING/S: USUK, Alfred/Arthur(America/England); OMC/Arthur(Original Male Character/England, but I swear, this is just plot device)
> 
>  
> 
> Two souls are trapped in a true love separated by hundreds of years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH GORE/VORE/ETC, PLEASE TURN BACK NOW. UNLESS, OF COURSE, YOU WANT TO CHALLENGE YOURSELF OR SOMETHING. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
> 
> Warnings in this fic to look out for: Graphic depictions of murder, cannibalism, blood drinking, excessive fapping, dubious consent!narcissism, long-distance sexing, black magic, major character death.
> 
> So, uh. Enjoy it, if you can.

 

* * *

Long, long ago, back in the era of kings, lords, fiefs, knights and  _fear_ , a little village in the outskirts of a small kingdom was completely wiped out—not a single soul was alive when the knights had arrived there, save for a little boy standing in the middle of the carnage, his beautiful green eyes glazed over, staring unseeing at the men as they stepped around mutilated bodies left and right, blood painting the dirt bright red, the odd mound of flesh here and there, a scattered organ still intact, bones ground to a fine powder.

They had brought him immediately to a church, had the boy blessed and then cleaned up, and a kindly couple agreed to take him in as their own.

As the boy grew up, he was different from the other little children—withdrawn, always quiet, unresponsive and stoic as a wall, so the little boy was always avoided like the plague, whispers laced with the poison of doubt and fear wrapping around his uncaring self.

" _Witch_ ," they had called him in whispers, " _Changeling_."

The boy paid them no heed and grew up into a very delicate young man with a beautiful, pale face in the shape of a heart, his lips full and pale pink, his eyes a pair of big, beautiful, glimmering emeralds. His body had grown slim and petite, and he was much shorter than all the boys, and was almost as delicately-shaped as the girls he grew up with.

He was  _beautiful_ , alluring and quiet, just like a rose.

The English Rose soon was tagged to the young man's name as he came of age, and he remained passive to all around him as suitors who were either called foolish or brave enough to try for his affections showered him with unreciprocated, cold hard inattention.

It made him all the more enchanting; a beautiful, unbowed flower in the edge of a flower garden in full bloom, more enchanting, more magnetic than that of all the other flowers showing off colourful petals to catch the picker's attention. He was hard to get—the flower, stubborn and unmoving, high and out of reach way above anyone's heads, only reachable by sight and nothing more.

Innocently sitting there, in view of everyone's line of sight, beautiful blood red petals covered the thorns it had beneath.

* * *

Once, a young girl had decided to brave asking for his affections.

She had prepared to give him a dove, a lovely white little thing in a pretty white cage, a deep green ribbon tied to its handle. Nervously she walked up to him, sitting by himself under a great oak tree not too far from his home. Holding the birdcage in her small hands, she strode up to him, determined to speak with him, when as she approached, the boy looked up from his book to stare right into her eyes.

His cold green eyes bore into her soul and sent a chill down her spine. She bristled, and the wind's direction changed, blowing strongly at her back, sending her hair flying in her face, blowing her forward as above them the skies changed from sunny to cloudy as the winds brought with them the dark grey clouds heavy with water.

"Oh!" she cried, dropping the birdcage onto the earth as she scrambled to gather her bearings, the birdcage with the little dove in it rolling down the inclined plane of the land until it hit a nearby rock with a sickening crack. Her eyes widened upon hearing the crack, and she turned around to try and reach for the birdcage, when the wind blew harder and her hair flew around her, disorienting her more.

Suddenly there was a cold hand on her shoulder and the wind stopped completely. She blinked as her hair and dress calmed down, and she turned to see the green-eyed boy standing beside her, his hand on her shoulder.

She opened her mouth to speak, her cheeks tinting pink—had he decided to give her a try?—when he lifted his hand and pointed at the smashed birdcage next to the nearby rock. She gasped, and ran towards it, hot tears spilling from her eyes in mortification. She fell to her knees next to the birdcage, where the poor dove lay, weakly twitching, and a bar from the birdcage poking out from its breast. She gasped in horror, covering her mouth as it fell open as she began to sob.

The young man knelt down next to her and inspected the dove. He reached out and pulled one of the wings gently—the creature let out a pained cry.

"Oh, his wings are broken," the girl moaned, as he leaned close to scoop the bird into his hands, pulling out the bar that had pierced through it with a wet  _shlick_ , rich red blood spilling from the wound, tainting the dove's pristine white feathers. "Oh, the poor thing,"

"You did this to him," the young man spoke up, his voice gentle and smooth, a total opposite to what he was telling her. "He's dying,"

"Oh, no, I—it was an accident—"

The young man gave her a stern glance.

"This is as good as dead," he said, and without warning, his thin, elegant fingers moved and a loud  _crack_  sliced through the air. The girl's eyes widened and looked down at the dove in the boy's hands to see its head angled so oddly it was a wonder it still stayed attached to its body, its neck fully snapped so the bones flew right apart.

It died in the young man's hands.

She gaped at him, horrified, and he merely lifted the dead bird and walked away into his house, his book pinned under one arm to keep his hands from staining it, to wash his hands.

* * *

When everyone had heard this tale, (with much sobbing and wailing from the girl, no doubt) the villagers had avoided the young man like a plague, more so now, than ever before.

His presence would send mothers reaching for their children and hiding them behind them, and fathers turning his head away or leaving to find something else to do, all to keep their minds off the beautiful menace living in their peaceful little town.

His back story came back to light again after that, now intensified as rumours spread about how  _he_  was the one to wipe out all the people in his home town, and that  _they_  were next if they didn't do anything about it.

The mayor of their town refused to have him banished, for even he had fallen for the mysterious beauty. He decided to have himself married to the beautiful youth to keep people from chasing him out of their city.

* * *

The young man took all of this in stride—or rather, he was completely impassive about the entire affair—as the mayor declared his love for him, before having him sign a marriage certificate. The young man remained silent throughout everything:

"And do you take the man's hand in marriage?" the priest asked, and the entire room fell silent to hear his reply.

None came.

"Oh, just get on with it," the Mayor nervously laughed, and awkward, the priest did as he was told.

* * *

The wedding night was, in a word—utterly disappointing, for the Mayor at least, as his new bride merely walked right past him and climbed into the armchair, picking up a book on the table next to it and read. He tried speaking to him, used sly, seductive words that whispered dirty promises, but the young man moved not a muscle, steadfastly sitting there by the fire, reading the night away.

The Mayor went to bed alone, defeated.

* * *

It went on like this for several years, the man's young bride not uttering a single word at him, merely burying his nose in his books and writing, not at all paying any attention whatsoever to the man who forcibly married him.

One night, he had enough.

"My dear, why won't you come to bed with me," he sighed, and of course, there was no reply, merely silence, as his bride wrote, and wrote and wrote. "What are you doing?" he asked, walking up to him, "What is it you're so absorbed in about?"

At this, his bride lifted his head, and a positively  _wicked_  smile spread across his face.

"Would you like to find out?" he asked, the first words out of his mouth to his husband was sweet music to his ears, as slowly, the young man's elegant hands smoothed down his clothes, catching onto the hem of them, and at this the Mayor's eyes widened.

Yes, he thought, he had finally bowed the English Rose!

Oh, how wrong he had been.

* * *

Young Arthur Kirkland was a  _different_  sort of fellow, one who never talked to anyone, more absorbed in the books he was reading and his writing to pay any true attention to other people, other than the one that plagued his mind.

Ever since he had been born, Arthur has been dreaming of a young man—beautiful golden blonde hair and crystal-clear summer-sky-blue eyes with a bright smile showing rows of perfect white teeth, with big warm hands and a broad chest that looked like Arthur fit there perfectly, tall and handsome, like any prince would be.

It hadn't always been like this, really, when he was little he had dismissed his dreams to be completely normal—back then he had dreamt of a little boy, still with the same golden blonde hair and alluring blue eyes and perfect smile. They were playing together in a field, all bright laughter and innocence, without a care in the world.

When Arthur started growing up, however, things changed.

When he was a little boy, he had dreamt the boy in his dreams was being taken away from him, tears streaming down his face as he ran after the blonde, hand outstretched, screaming for him to  _take my hand, take it, don't leave me here, please, I need you_ —

But then the boy was gone and Arthur woke up bloodied and covered in entrails, a knight leaning over him, his detached voice asking him if he was okay.

The only thought in his mind, as he looked down at the unrecognizable bodies around him, was  _my God, what have I done_?

He grew into a secluded young man, his dreams about beautiful golden blonde hair and blue eyes fading into memory as he developed, as he learned to read and write, and when he had mastered the art of language, the dreams had come back.

Only this time, it became apparent that the both of them had grown.

Gone was the innocent smile, the naivety in big blue eyes, the soft warmth of small hands, now replaced by a coy grin, knowing blue eyes that conveyed dirty promises of naughty escapades, as big,  _phantom_ , calloused hands ran up and down Arthur's body in his dreams, driving him wild with lust and wanting, as he found himself begging for more.

He soon fell in love with the man he met once upon a dream, and night after night, they would entangle themselves in each other's love, Arthur's heart racing and his entire pale body flushing in the heat of their passion, only to wake up in the morning feeling cold, his shame still sticky between his legs.

Arthur began to write. He wrote about the man he loved, every day and every night, alternating between writing and reading, lacing fantasy after fantasy up, escapades and adventures both of either kind: sexual or platonic, and soon they filled parchments and empty books and diaries as the years passed by.

Arthur had no eyes for anyone but the man in his dreams—still  _nameless_ , still without identity, but he could spare no glance at anyone who vied for his attention.

Soon he caught wind of something every person in his town feared—magic.

He was drawn to it, intoxicated by its sweet call of his desires being fulfilled—

The moment the once-dead dove twitched to life in right before his eyes, while all around him hundreds of white candles burned unholy green light, the chalk pentacle beneath his knees was smudging his clothes dirty white as his hands shook, once again stained with blood, like earlier when he had snapped the bird's neck.

It shakily got up onto its feet, hopped around for a while, its head lolling left to right like a loose sack of flour as it tried to get its bearings around, the skin still holding the head to its body stretching and straining to keep it attached.

Arthur, eyes wide with curiosity, held the head between two fingers, squeezing it softly, intrigued at how it still felt dead and cold.

The bird tried to hop away, get its head away from Arthur's hold, when suddenly there was a sickening sound of ripping skin, and the next thing Arthur knew, the spell broke and the green flame of the candles abruptly turned back to yellow-orange, and he was staring down at the dove's head still held between two fingers. The body lay almost a foot away, lying down on its side as dark viscous  _dead_  blood oozed out from the hole it made when it tore away from the head. In the dim light, Arthur could make out the edge of the broken vertebral column and remnants of the torn pharynx, cut blood vessels and spilt muscle fibres. With his other hand, the young man curiously reached out and brushed his fingers against the snapped jugular, wetting his fingers with blood. He pulled his fingers back, rubbing the blood between his index finger and thumb, before curiously sliding his fingers into his mouth.

The sharp tang of metal stabbed at his tongue—and an interesting aftertaste followed suit.

Arthur smiled around his fingers, his lips smeared with blood.

It was  _delicious_.

* * *

The Mayor did not scream when Arthur drove the knife into his throat. He couldn't.

The sharp blade cut right through the thyroid cartilage in front of his larynx, not too wide as to sever the carotid artery and the internal jugular vein, but completely destroying his thyroarytenoid muscle, tearing through his vocal cords like a hot knife through butter.

Arthur's smile never left his face as he pulled it violently out, causing blood to spill on him in spurts, as his blade nicked the side of the right carotid, reddened oxygenated blood spilling down from the Mayor's throat in small rivers that braided together as they approached the man's clavicle and pooled together there.

The Mayor gasped silently, bringing up his hands to push Arthur away, but his movements were slow and sluggish as more blood spilled from his cut artery, lessening the blood going to his brain. The flow grew in intensity as his heart rate increased, fear gripping him,  _I'm going to die, die, diediedie_ _ **die**_ —

Arthur calmly pushed the man down on the bed— _their_  bed, ironically—and clambered on top of him, straddling his hips.

"You're going to help me find the man I met in my dreams," Arthur dreamily said, before stabbing the knife into the man's biceps on both his arms. He let out a silent cry, his mouth falling open as pain seared through him, blood spilling onto the sheets, staining them a beautiful burgundy.

"The book had said I needed blood," he continued saying, slicing a y-incision on the man's chest, two lines running down from the end of his shoulders and meeting at the bottom of the sternum, and then one line running down to his navel, where Arthur had deviated the end to the left side slightly.

From here onwards, Arthur worked quickly. Blood was everywhere, but Arthur didn't mind, pulling out a small flask with a leather holder and flicking the lid open. Without so much as batting an eyelid, Arthur took hold of the folds of the man's skin and pulled them apart, cutting at the dermis until he could see the man's ribs.

"Open wide," he cooed, and forcibly pulled them apart, wide and open, where the Mayor's heart still beat underneath the pericardium. "Oh, yes, this will do," he nodded, before cutting away at the peritoneum, revealing to him the beating heart.

Humming softly, he sliced the aorta, spilling bright red blood, and quickly, he brought in the flask to collect the blood as it pumped out of the man's heart. Below him the Mayor's breathing had begun to slow down.

"This will be over soon,  _love_ ," Arthur giggled slightly, watching the glass bottle fill up. When it overflowed with blood, he took it away and capped it, before setting it down on the bedside table. He looked back at the Mayor, who was now looking at him through half-lidded eyes, death soon coming to him.

"Now, I know I've stolen your heart," Arthur said, patting the man's face. "But I'd like to steal it again." He smiled, and that was the last thing the Mayor ever saw.

Arthur looked down at the body, before cutting off the blood vessels connected to the heart. He pulled it out of the pericardial cavity, and inspected it in the dim light from the fireplace. A pleased grin spread across his face. Yes, this will  _definitely_  do.

* * *

He opened his eyes, letting out a gasp as he sat up abruptly, his breathing shallow as his heart thundered in his chest.

Tonight's dream had been dark,  _too_  dark, but it had felt  _oh so good_.

He sighed, running his hand down his face, slumping backwards onto the headboard of his bed. He lowered his hand and looked at his two hands, clenching and unclenching them as he tried to get them to stop shaking—not from fear, but from some taboo excitement that was rushing through his veins.

Alfred Jones, second year astronomy student studying in Harvard, groped around in the dark for his glasses, slipping them on after he found them, groaning, before fumbling for the light switch of the beside lamp. He found it and flicked it on, a warm orange glow bathing himself as he inspected himself—he was sprawled eagle-spread, legs twitching as between them a tent stood tall and proud.

He grits his teeth, before reaching for himself under the sheets, reaching under the waistband of his shorts. His calloused hand grasped his length and he hissed, and slowly he began to jerk up and down, arousal spreading through him as he thought back to his dream—a beautiful sandy blonde-haired young man, straddling him, covered in blood and giggling as the dark red liquid stained his full pink lips that looked absolutely  _delicious_  to kiss, a heart in one hand and the other a flask filled with blood.  _His_ blood. His  _heart_.

Alfred imagined leaning up and capturing the blonde's lips in a fierce kiss, the blonde's sweet rose-like flavour, sweet and aromatic like a lovely red rose, not too deeply red and not too lightly pink. The sweetness would be stabbed by the sharp metal taste of blood, jarring him to reality, giving him some semblance of control, as he thrust his hip upwards.

The blonde would moan into his mouth, a sweet little wet sound as he ground his hips down onto Alfred, sweet pert arse rubbing against his hard cock, mewling like a kitten as needy hands would drop the two bloodied items on the bed and wrap around the back of his neck, bloody hands squelching behind him as they grasped his nape—

"Shit!" Alfred swore, coming hard, hot and fast into his hand. He fell back, panting, as he waited for his heart rate to slow down. Groaning, he got up and made his way to the in-room bathroom to clean himself up. On the way there, the blonde looked at the alarm clock on his study desk. It blared in neon red numbers: 3:00 AM. He sniffed. Witching hour again, huh?

He stepped into the shower and gave himself a cold shower, shivering under the coldness that washed away his cum down his toned legs. He stayed in there for a long time, trying to clear his mind of beautiful blondes with vibrant green eyes that were covered in blood. And lots of it. And it was even his.

He finally made himself get out of the shower stall and he looked at himself in the mirror, still dripping wet. He grimaced. He looked like a dog that got caught out in the rain. He shook out the water in his hair, not caring that the water droplets flew everywhere.

He glared at his reflection. He wasn't supposed to be getting off at the sight of blood. Pretty boys, okay,  _maybe,_  but blood was a big no-no.

A small nagging voice in the back of his head said otherwise.

_Nonetheless, you still **loved**  it._

Alfred growled, burying his fingers into his hair and pulling at his golden locks.

"No, no, no!" he yelled, before punching the wall, ignoring the images of his beautiful blonde eating the heart from a chipped porcelain bowl.

* * *

He had masturbated again in the shower later, when he was getting ready for classes, the image of his beautiful blonde riding him in a frenzied manner, moaning loudly, wantonly, as their bodies slid together, the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin as they melded their bodies together in a searing heat—

Alfred had come harder than usual. With a groan, he hit his head on the tiled wall of the shower stall to clear his mind.

* * *

It hasn't always been like this, really.

Ever since he had been born, Alfred has been dreaming of a young man—lovely sandy-blonde hair and stunning bright green eyes with a cute shy smile, with small warm hands that fit into his so perfectly he never,  _ever_  wanted to let go.

He had dismissed his dreams to be completely normal—back then he had dreamt of a little boy, still with the same sandy blonde hair and alluring green eyes and sweet smile. They were playing together in a field, all bright laughter and innocence, without a care in the world.

When Alfred started growing up, however, things changed.

When he was a little boy, he had dreamt he was being taken away from the boy in his dreams, hearing him pleading, but he couldn't speak, couldn't talk, like as if his throat had constricted so tightly he could even barely breathe.

 _Take my hand, take it, don't leave me here, please, I need you_ —

But then he woke up to the sound of his family home burning down.

He grew up into a determined young man, determined to never ever let what happened to him in his dream happen to him in reality, training himself to grow stronger, faster, smarter, his dreams about soft sandy blonde hair and green eyes fading into memory as he grew up, and when he had finished his third grade, the dreams had come back.

Only this time, it became apparent that the both of them had grown.

Gone were the innocent smiling, the naive chattering, the soft warmth of small hands, now replaced by a coy grins, surprised green eyes that begged knowledge of dirty promises he had whispered like sweet nothings as he ran his hands up and down that sweet lithe body in his dreams, driving him wild with lust and wanting, as his phantom lover begged for more.

He soon fell in love with the man he met once upon a dream, and night after night, they would entangle themselves in each other's love, Alfred's heart racing and his body heating up in the throes of their passion, only to wake up in the morning with a sense of yearning, his tent of an erection standing proud and tall under his bed sheets.

Alfred began to work himself hard. He did his best to try to block out everything, engrossed himself in studies, extracurricular activates, friends, projects, all that he could get his hands on—he became the golden boy of his school, but whenever he returns home, the inevitable happens—he is dragged back unwillingly pliant to his deep black secret—his dreams.

His dreams had increased in eroticism as time passed by, lovemaking more intense than the night before, and still he could not get enough of that beautiful voice spilling out wet sweet moans of pleasure; or when the blonde would sweetly smile and laugh with him during one of their more less-lust-driven dreams.

Alfred soon had no eyes for anyone but the man in his dreams—still  _nameless_ , still without identity, making him unable to handle relationships, none of them lasting longer than a month at a time.

He was beginning to think he was going  _crazy_ —

 _Especially_ when one night, he had dreamt that his beautiful blonde was performing black magic, animating a dead dove with a snapped neck.

It was supposed to be  _dirty_ ,  _taboo_ ,  _unholy_ , but Alfred found himself enthralled, exhilarated as epinephrine coursed through his veins, giving him a high as he watched the blonde through his eyes tear off the dove's head and breaking the spell.

Alfred found himself enjoying the blood a little  _too_  much, but he couldn't let it go.

* * *

"Do you think you can teach me how to get a lucid dream?" Alfred asked, walking alongside his best friend Kiku, as they made their way to a class that they had shared. The Japanese transfer student looked up at him, puzzled, and cocked his head.

"Why would you want to find out, Alfred?" he asked, his accent thickening his pronunciation as he spoke. The Psychology student leaned into his face. "Is there something bothering you?"

"N-nothing is," Alfred denied, "I was just curious."

Kiku frowned at him, and shook his head. "Oh, alright. I'll tell you about it later after lunch."

* * *

Alfred needed to control his dreams, somehow manage to stop his lovely blonde from doing all this nonsense with blood and carnage.

Alfred gave it a try every single day, as he watched the blonde go on with his everyday life. It hurt him to know that his lovely blonde was now married to someone, but he had no idea what had happened to the man.

It was like as if… he had disappeared from the face of the earth.

* * *

Arthur found himself more unresponsive than usual, lingering for more than necessary in front of mirrors and surfaces of water, just staring into his reflection.

He would catch himself staring into his own eyes, a longing feeling rising in his chest.

How strange. The book didn't say anything about this.

He had done the ritual as instructed by the black book; blood of a married man, drawn in a pentacle, and the heart in unrequited love, chopped and mixed with red rose petals, and a bit of blood.

He had stood in the middle of the pentacle, holding the bowl of his husband— _ex-_ husband's—heart, chopped finely and dripping with blood and rose, softly murmuring the spell. When the candles' flame had turned a deathly green, he scooped up the viscera with his free hand and brought it to his mouth, eating it up, licking the blood and bits of rose petals off his fingers.

The flames extinguished themselves and Arthur fell to the ground on his knees as a searing heat pulsated through him. His flaccid cock suddenly stood to attention as he keened, leaning back to land on his arse as he spread his legs on top of the blood pentacle, his hands reaching under the hem of his clothes to grasp himself.

Arthur moaned as his hand wrapped around his throbbing member, his other hand, blood, rose juice, mucus and saliva-wet, reaching further below him to press against his entrance, fluttering at the contact; hot flesh against cool wet limb.

He mewled loudly as he began to stroke himself slowly, imagining the blonde man in his dreams watching him from the darkness all around him, as he pleasured himself, pressing his fingers against the clenched ring of muscle around his hole. Letting out a shuddering breath as tears of pleasure spilled from his eyes he  _forced_  his index finger in, the entrance unclenching as his finger slid in to the first knuckle.

"Ah!" he gasped, bucking against the air, desperate for friction that wasn't there, as he imagined the man fingering him open instead of himself. He pushed his finger in further, undulating it to pry himself open wider, and when he deemed himself relaxed enough, he inserted a second finger, the burn in it so sweet a loud long wanton moan ripped from his throat as he was stretched wider.

He imagined that it was the girth of he man's cock prying him open, Arthur gasping as he pushed inside him further, body coiling in pleasure as he felt his fingers filling him up from inside.

"Yes— _yes_ , oh!"

He gasped, as he hooked his fingers—the tips brushed his prostrate, and he let out a loud squeal of ecstasy as he abused it, his strokes on his cock going faster and faster, and—

"Ah!"

He came hard, white ejaculate streaming over the blood pentacle, a stark white streak amidst dark burgundy. Panting, he pulled his fingers out of his entrance as he waited.

He didn't have to wait long. The pentacle glowed and absorbed his cum, white disappearing into the floor beneath him, as he pulled himself together, panting heavily like a dog.

It should have worked.

Why wasn't he with the blonde man now?

* * *

Arthur had managed to avoid suspicion—apparently the ruckus he had caused the night before was enough to convince the townspeople he now cared enough for the Mayor to refuse anyone who wanted to see him. The Vice-Mayor took over for him as Arthur went by his daily doings, silently wondering to himself why hadn't the soul binding spell worked.

It  _had_  worked, actually, just not in the way Arthur had expected it.

* * *

A few days later, Arthur fell asleep and found himself sitting up in an unfamiliar bed, in a room that looked  _far_  different from the ones in his village.

It was small, with four smooth, plain white walls. There were two doors; one was brown and the other, white. Dotted around the room were strange devices Arthur had never seen before. Fear gripped at him and he shuffled backwards—until he hit a wooden frame behind him. He couldn't see anything clearly, no matter how hard he tried to squint. Panic rose up in his throat like bile—

His eyes widened and he lost control of himself for a moment, his hand darting out to grab something on the right side, and something was put over his eyes. Suddenly his vision cleared and he could see the room he was in properly in the dim light of a lamp next to him. He looked at the lamp next to him. It looked so much more different than the ones he had back at the village, with a cone on top of it to alleviate the light downwards.

Suddenly his body moved of its own accord and he was walked over to the white door. He opened it and inside was a pure white room, with square panels all over the walls and floor. He shivered. They were radiating coolness, and under his bare feet they were cold as snow.

His body walked forward until he reached a pane that looked like a large mirror—and his eyes widened at who it was staring back at him.

It was the blue-eyed, golden-blonde haired man haunting his dreams. Joy filed his heart. The spell had worked!

… Wait, he was looking at a mirror. How…?

Slowly, cautiously, Arthur raised his hand to his face. The man did the same. It  _was_  a mirror, meaning…

Arthur touched his face, and ran his hands all over his body.

His body was so much different, larger than before—Arthur froze.

He was in his lover's body. He was in his lover's  _body_ , just like in his dreams, only  _now_ , he had the power to control what he was doing.

Longingly, Arthur looked into the mirror. "I love you," he said, and he jolted upon realising even his voice had changed. It was the man's voice, slightly deep and warm-sounding. Arthur felt himself melting slightly in pleasure as he leaned forward, touching his fingers—the  _man's_  fingers—to the cool surface of the mirror.

* * *

Alfred was horrified. He had no control over his body as he felt himself leaning in towards his bathroom mirror, his fingers spreading across the glass, the heat of his body fogging up the areas around his fingers.

His breath ghosted over his reflection, fogging it up, as he stared into his own eyes.

He was supposed to be afraid, supposed to be not  _doing this_ , supposed to be back in his bed, thinking about banging some poor fellow, but he couldn't pry himself away from his reflection, like he was enthralled by it.

His heart rate quickened. Much to his shock his cock stirred to life.

His body closed the distance and he pressed his lips to his reflection's lips, moaning as one of his hands pulled away from the mirror to grasp his cock, already leaking with precum. He used it as lubrication as he stroked himself slowly at first, as he kissed himself in the mirror, tongue darting out to lick at himself in the mirror. He moaned, as his strokes grew faster, and faster, as he panted into the mirror, resting his forehead against it as his gut clenched and—

"Ugh!" he gasped, coming in his hand. He felt the restraints holding him back from controlling his body dissipate and he sank to his knees, panting.

"… What the fuck was that all about?" he looked up at the mirror, still fogged up from where he was breathing into it.

* * *

Arthur woke up with a start, cheeks stained red as he pressed his thighs together, the tell-tale  _squelch_  of his cum spread all over his inner thighs telling him what he had just done was not a dream.

Giddiness took over him.

He had actually  _touched_ the man this time around.

* * *

Immediately after Kiku had taught him how to have lucid dreams, Alfred did his best to do as he was told.

He was successful at times, sometimes he would gain control of his blonde while on his day-to-day routines, managing to stop him every once in a while to stare at himself in the mirror, much like what happened to him a few nights before. Before he could do anything, however, he would lose control and the blonde would continue doing whatever it is he was doing.

Alfred got the hang of lucid dreaming pretty quickly enough, until one night; he fell asleep to find himself standing alone in front of a decomposing body. He had wanted to  _scream_ , to run away, to get out of there, but his body was calm, cool and collected as he looked down at the body.

Alfred did a double-take and looked down at the surprisingly well-preserved corpse. His torso was wide open, skin open in flaps—a y-incision, from the looks of it, but even with Alfred's limited knowledge in post-mortem examinations, he could tell that the incision was delivered  _before_  death, judging from all the blood that had caked around the cut.

He froze when he saw the man's face.

Wasn't this the man his blonde had married? Then that means…

He looked away from the body and turned around to find himself standing in a bedroom that looked like it stepped out of a drawing from history books. Alfred gaped at the sight around him, and stepped around the corpse to find a familiar-looking bottle standing quietly on top of the bedside table. Alfred picked it up—and almost dropped it when he saw his hand was smaller than usual, more frail, long and elegant…

This was his blonde's hand.

Intrigue spreading through him like wildfire, Alfred rushed to the mirror (by this time he knew where it was, since he had always managed to stop the blonde and stare at him there) and found the blonde staring right back at him.

Glee took him over and he walked closer to the mirror, touching his soft face, memorising the feel of silky smooth skin under soft fingertips.

"Oh, you're so beautiful," he sighed in the blonde's voice, shivering in delight at how utterly  _wonderful_  it sounded in his ears. "So, so beautiful. I want you," he told the reflection, even if the reflection was mouthing the same thing he was saying. "So, so badly, I love you."

Alfred began to strip himself of clothes and bared it all in front of the mirror, cataloguing the look of his blonde's beautiful, slender pale-skinned body, sticking long elegant fingers in his mouth as he did so, laving saliva over his fingers generously. The reflection in the mirror was so terribly erotic Alfred was sure the look was  _burned_  into his mind. Turning around and spreading his legs and arse's cheeks after taking his thoroughly-wet fingers out of his mouth, he memorised the feel of his blonde's dusky entrance, smiling as he ran his saliva-coated fingers over it, the crinkled texture of the ring of muscle delightfully sensitive as it fluttered under his touch.

He felt it run up his spine, a delightful shiver of pleasure racking through him, as he stimulated it again and again, running his fingers over that tight ring of muscle.

The body he was in let out an involuntary moan, delicious and sweet, and Alfred mentally smiled as he continued to tease it until it loosened up and allowed him to push a finger in.

"Oh, yes," the breathless moan escaped his lips, but he knew it wasn't his. He felt it too, the pleasure, running up his spine deliciously. His other hand let go of his arse cheek and snaked around his front to stroke himself, still baring his arse to the mirror so he could see it over his shoulder. He pushed in his finger further, moving it around slightly to loosen it up.

He groaned as the pleasure shot up his spine and he pushed in another finger, scissoring it around, stretching himself as another strangled moan involuntarily escaped his mouth.

He hooked his fingers—and his vision went white.

He went  _crazy_ , bucking uncontrollably back on his fingers as he attempted to fuck himself on them, abusing his prostrate over and over. Alfred spared a glance at the mirror, where then and there, he almost came, seeing the blonde's face flushed red, back shining with a thin sheen of sweat, and his sweet pert arse's cheeks were parted, his legs parted so wide, to allow him view of his blonde's fingers up his entrance, pleasuring him, making him moan loudly like a whore that loves his job.

"Fuck, yes," Alfred hissed through the blonde's mouth, as he felt the pleasure sweep over him like a tsunami, wave after wave of it washing him wild with a carnal  _need_.

His strokes grew erratic and grew in pace, and suddenly with twin gasps, he and the blonde came as one. Panting, he sank to his knees and lifted his head to see the corpse sitting quietly at the foot of the bed.

A small, high-pitched giggle escaped his lips.

He just had a mind-blowing masturbation session in front of a dead guy. How charming.

* * *

Alfred woke up with a grin on his face and a dark patch on his crotch. He thought back to the  _amazing_  experience he had the night before—he  _actually_ finger-fucked his lovely blonde. It felt amazing.

Somehow, all sense of propriety went out the window after that night, and he found himself longing for more, more,  _more_ ,  _more, moremore_ _ **more**_ _more_  of the blonde, a dark, carnal need to  _touch_  growing in him, eating away at him every day, growing more skittish, his hands growing twitchy as his desperation grew.

Lust was a dangerous thing, if left too long unattended to.

* * *

"Alfred, there's something wrong with you," Kiku spoke up, closing Alfred's dorm room door behind him, looking up worriedly into his friend's eyes.

"There's nothing wrong with me," Alfred pressed, "Why can't you leave me alone?" he growled, turning onto the smaller man, eyes flashing dangerously.

"Alfred, you were exhibiting signs of a mental illness, or trauma," Kiku pressed, "This isn't good for you!" he yelled, and Alfred's eyes darkened.

"Love is never bad for you." He growled, and Kiku blinked at him.

"Lov… you're in  _love_ , Alfred?" he asked, incredulously. "Why—your  _behaviour_  is telling me otherwise!" he replied, "It's like as if… as if, you've gone  _ballistic_  or something!"

"Maybe I have," Alfred said, his voice low, inching towards Kiku, the smaller man shrinking back, fearful. "Maybe I  _have_  gone crazy. Say all you want,  _Kiku_ ," he growled, pushing the smaller man down onto the floor with one hand, the other curling around the handle of his baseball bat on the study desk. "I, Alfred Fitzgerald Jones, am  _not_  crazy." He gripped the handle tightly. "I am in love."

"I doubt it," Kiku replied, face stern, "I haven't seen you with  _anyone_  for the past few  _years_ , Alfred! How can you be in love?"

"Once upon a dream," Alfred replied, before bringing down the bat onto him.

* * *

Arthur sat up in bed, gasping, when he heard someone entering his house. Panicked, he stood up and grabbed his knife from the bedside table, running towards the door, past the Mayor's dead body—

Only he was too late, and his sister-in-law stepped into the bedroom, a stern expression on her face.

Of course, it immediately fell the moment her eyes laid on the dead body of her brother.

She didn't even have the time to scream as Arthur jabbed his knife straight through her jugular, carotid and larynx, panting heavily as she dropped like a stone at his feet.

* * *

Alfred remembered to stop when he couldn't see anything past his blood-coated glasses. He blinked, lifting his hand to his glasses and wiping his fingers against it, wiping a streak of blood off them to reveal to him Kiku lying down in front of him, motionless, covered in blood.

Alfred stared at him for a while, before looking down at the baseball bat in his hand that was covered in blood and bits of broken bone and muscle tissue.

It took him a moment to put two and two, and when he did, he grabbed his hair and  _screamed_.

* * *

Tears were running down Arthur's face when he finally stopped bringing down the knife over and over again into his sister-in-law's head, his hand falling lax against his side as he stared blankly at the opened cranium laid out in front of him, blood oozing out from the stabs he had put into her at full force.

Panting, he blankly stared into space for a moment, and when the weight of what he had done settled over him, he dropped his knife, buried his blood-splattered face into his bloody hands and sobbed.

* * *

Alfred had screamed his throat sore, and when he couldn't speak anymore, he sank down next to Kiku's corpse and his eyes slid closed.

They opened again and his vision was blurry, tear-filled.

"Love, why are you crying," he spoke out loud, and he felt his blonde wipe away his tears to reveal to him another person's dead body—a woman.

"I want to stop this now," his blonde sobbed, "Why did I have to fall in love with you?"

"I want to ask the same question too," Alfred replied, "My love, I want to see you again."

His blonde stayed silent for a moment, before getting up, bringing Alfred's presence with him as he walked out of the bedroom.

"I never knew what your name was," his blonde said, and Alfred smiled, his blonde smiling along with him.

"It's Alfred. What's yours?"

"Arthur."

Arthur. What a lovely name.

"Arthur, where are we going?"

"Away," the blonde replied simply, walking out of the house, not caring if anyone saw him, covered in blood. "Away from this world."

"… That's nice." Alfred nodded, and Arthur ran to a still river, looking down at the water to stare at his reflection.

Alfred melted at the sight of Arthur—still so beautiful, so delicate; despite being covered in blood and gore.

"I love you," Alfred said to the reflection, the reflection mouthing his message back at him.

"I love you too," Arthur said, his lips curling into a smile. Alfred smiled along with him.

Alfred leaned forward to kiss the surface of the water—leaning too far forward, and the both of them topped into the river.

* * *

When the police had gotten to a report from a dorm room at Harvard, they found two boys kneeling down next to each other—one was beaten to death, blood sprayed all over the room, and his beater (unharmed) knelt down next to him, dead, with a message written in blood on the floor next to him.

_We met, we loved,_

_Once upon a dream._


	14. Collision of Worlds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GENRE: Romance, Fluff  
> RATING: T  
> WARNINGS: Olympics craze, sweetness galore, domestic!USUK.  
> PAIRING/S: USUK, Alfred/Arthur(America/England)
> 
>  
> 
> We can't pretend to live on different planets, you and me.
> 
> —Two lovers separated by a rather large pond.

The blaring of an alarm clock jolted Alfred out of his hamburger-dotted dream, the blonde man groaning as he sat up in his bed, streaks of golden sunlight striping across him on golden yellow beams that rivalled the vibrant colour of his hair. His hand blindly reached out for the alarm clock on the bedside table, slamming down his palm on the snooze button right on top of the display that blared out the time: 7:00AM. Bleary bright blue eyes opened slowly as he rubbed each of them in turn, his mouth opening wide as he yawned, before stretching wide, warming up his stiff muscles from the night before.

Smiling weakly, Alfred, clad only in Stars And Stripes boxers, sat up in bed. He slung his legs over the side, his feet landing in the warm woolly white carpet underneath his large king-sized canopy bed. He wiggled his toes in the warm fluffy softness as he groped at the bedside table for his glasses.

Slipping them on, he smiled as he looked around his bedroom—pristine and neat, thanks to the maids that came in here regularly to clean up.

A phone on his bedside table rang, and his hand shot out to press the speakerphone button.

" _Good morning, Mr. America,_ " a woman's voice spoke from the speaker as he stood up, walking over to the windows to pull aside the night curtains.

"G'dmorning to you too, Agent McTaggert," he smiled, grasping the heavy velvet of the dark blue curtains and pulling them aside, letting the sunshine flood into his room, filling it with golden light. Outside, he could see the garden, where Michelle was already jogging a few rounds. His smile widened, before he turned his head to look at the phone on his bedside table.

" _Today, after breakfast, at 9, you'll be meeting with the CIA with the President,_ " she reported, " _And then later, you're to attend lunch with some of the WWF officials to talk about conservation of Yellowstone._ "

"What else's up?" he asked, walking around, looking for his iPhone. He found it on his study table, next to his laptop, where it had been charging the night before—that is, if him sleeping at 3AM after gaming for hours on end was still  _the night before_. It wasn't finished charging, so he let it be.

" _You'll be having dinner with the ambassador from Iraq, sir. Mr. Iraq will be there too, so please be on your best behaviour._ "

"Oh, you know me," Alfred chuckled. "I've got gold stars for behaviour."

" _Exactly how many stars?_ " Alfred laughed, he had liked Agent McTaggert for her snarky disposition that appeared at times when Alfred decided to act like a little boy. It reminded him so much of Arthur when he drove the older country up the wall.

"Fifty golden ones, Agent McTaggert," Alfred snickered, "One for each of the states, baby."

" _So you say, sir_." The woman chuckled on the other side. " _Please get ready for this morning's appointment. I'll be coming by to pick you up at 7:30 for breakfast. Oh, and don't forget Texas this time. You know what happened last time when that happened._ "

"Oh, God, no." Alfred shook his head, laughing. "See you later," he said, before hanging up. Barefoot, he padded into the bathroom, stifling a yawn as he stripped down and stepped into the shower.

* * *

"Agent Carter, the folders, if you please," Arthur spoke up, bringing up yet another cup of tea to his lips. It was his third one in this afternoon alone, and he really needed it, what with all the stress coming right at him in waves, and the Olympics just around the corner—the bloody torch was coming home in the next  _week_ , for the love of God—he needed to  _focus_  if he wanted to get this thing done with as best as he can.

Stress did a lot of things to him, really, and to let it all out, he would cry it out, now more so than usual, making it rain more than usual in several parts all over the United Kingdom. His brothers were chewing him out over it, but really, what was he to do in stressful situations like this?

"Mr. England," the brunette agent said, handing him a thick manila folder with several documents in it, and the blonde nation sighed.

"Alright, let's get through them, then." He said, opening the folder up and pulling out a monstrous pile of paper. He paled, and the woman with him chuckled, patting his shoulder slightly.

"Do your best, sir," she said, and he nodded.

"Right," Arthur chuckled, " _Lie back and think of England_ , right."

* * *

Alfred stepped out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist and another held up in his hair by his two hands. He rubbed his towel into his hair, drying it out, as he walked over to his iPhone, still charging.

Whistling absently, he unlocked the screen—0216 was his pass code, a tiny grin on his face as he remembered why, and the screen unlocked to the menu, the background of his phone a photo of Arthur's smiling face.

He jabbed at the phone application and called Arthur, putting him on speakerphone before walking to his cabinet to pick out a suit as the dial tone rang.

* * *

_In this collision of worlds_

_Watch the new day dawn on a distant shore_

Arthur jolted slightly when suddenly his phone rang, his hands letting go of the papers he was holding as his phone vibrated on top of his desk. Quickly, he reached out for it (pulling it close to him by the Stars and Stripes phone strap Alfred had tied to it) and answered the call, putting it on speakerphone without looking at the caller ID.

"Hello?" he asked, pushing his phone away slightly from him, the Union Jack silicone jacket of it rumpling slightly as it bunched up underneath the device.

" _Hey, babe. Good morning._ "

A soft smile made its way to Arthur's face as a pink hue coloured his pale cheeks. Agent Carter saw her country's reaction, and smiling knowingly, she excused herself and went out of his office.

"Good afternoon, Alfred," he smiled, "What made you call so early today?"

He smiled. They both knew Alfred called every day, once in  _his_  morning, and once again just before Arthur went to bed.

" _Oh, nothing. Just thought I'd love to hear your voice again._ "

Arthur's blush intensified. Alfred was always saying sweet things to him like that, but he could never, ever get tired of it. Every time Alfred would compliment him, or say something utterly cheesy at him, he would blush and get all flustered just like the first time Alfred had told him things like that.

* * *

Just like that time in the ruins of a Blitzed church. He, Alfred and a handful of men were hiding out under whatever they could, away from enemy sight after their air carrier was shot down into the graveyard right behind the church.

The two countries were bundled into the confessional by their concerned citizens—their  _children_ —before going off to hide themselves.

Cramped together in a tiny space, Arthur had found himself straddling Alfred's lap, arms wrapped loosely around Alfred's torso, their faces close to each others' as their bodies were pressed tightly together to accommodate each other in the small compartment spade.

The British country had spluttered out flustered apologies, his cheeks turning bright red, but Alfred had merely laughed, wrapping his arms around Arthur's waist and pulling him closer.

"Hey, babe, calm down," he had said, smiling slightly as an embarrassed blush spread across his face. "It's just me."

"Wh-wh-did you just call me  _babe_?" Arthur asked, incredulous, his blush intensifying, and Alfred laughed quietly.

"Shh, you're going to call the Nazis here and we're screwed." He whispered. "Keep quiet."

"B-but, but," Arthur bit his lip, and Alfred chuckled.

"Shh."

" _Wohin sind sie gegangen?_ " suddenly they heard a Nazi officer yell outside. The two nations stiffened up, alarmed. " _Finden sie!_ "

"Shit," Alfred hissed, pulling Arthur closer to himself protectively, his hand snaking around the back of the smaller nation's neck, pulling him close to his neck, pressing himself fully against the smaller nation.

Arthur let out a small squeak of exasperated alarm, and outside they heard one soldier let out a sound of alarm.

" _Ich glaube, ich hörte etwas_!"

Arthur's eyes widened, and reflexively, he hugged Alfred close to himself, his fingers balling into tight fists in Alfred's uniform's back. Unbeknownst to him, the country's eyes widened and he looked down at Arthur, who was clinging onto him like he was a lifeline. A fond expression crossed his face and he hugged Arthur back.

Arthur lifted his head to stare at Alfred, thick eyebrow raised. He opened his mouth to speak, when Alfred shook his head wildly, before slamming their lips together in a kiss to shut him up.

Arthur's eyes widened and his grip tightened on Alfred's uniform, and before he knew it, he began to kiss him back, his eyes slipping closed as his fingers untangled themselves from the larger nation's back and buried themselves in Alfred's surprisingly soft hair, stroking golden blonde locks between his fingers gently, like he was petting a large dog.

Alfred smiled into the kiss, his hand snaking up to Arthur's nape and gently held him there, pulling his head closer, deepening the kiss.

Outside, their gaggle of RAF troops and American Air Force soldiers sprang out from their hiding places and ambushed the small Nazi squadron that had been dispatched to search for any survivors following their plane crash.

They pulled away from each other at the sound of gunshots, their eyes widening as their acute senses tied to their own flesh and blood—their men, their  _children_ , told them they were under fire.

Quickly they untangled themselves from each other and burst out of the confessional to help them out.

In the end there were no casualties, and they bundled themselves in the army truck the Nazis had brought with them with the intention to leave Occupied France to head for the English Channel.

Alfred was at the wheel, Arthur in the front passenger's seat as their men took up the space in the back. They came to a stop for a short break a few hundred miles away from their crash site, and that was when Arthur decided to talk.

"About that kiss, Alfred, I…" he stopped, blushing violently again, and the American laughed, before leaning in to kiss Arthur again. Their lips barely brushed against each other and Arthur quickly pulled away, eyes avoiding Alfred's as pointedly as he could.

"Well, you were just so cute I couldn't resist." He shrugged, and Arthur's blush intensified. "And  _that_ 's how we shut people up in America." He winked, and Arthur buried his face in his hands in a vain attempt to hide his growing blush, the tips of his ears going red.

"… You bloody git," Arthur mumbled, and Alfred snickered.

"I love you too, babe."

That was the first time of many times Alfred had told Arthur how he had felt about him.

* * *

"Oh, hush, you," Arthur replied, turning the page over to continue reading the other side. He made a face— _Beckham_ bringing the torch to the stadium,  _really_?—and wrote in red his opinion on the matter:  _utter bollocks, I want to see David Tennant bringing the bloody fire to the cauldron_.

" _Why? Can't I say sweet stuff to my lovely Artie?_ " Alfred snickered on the other side, and Arthur shook his head, smiling fondly. " _Bet you're blushing all cutesy and stuff, babe. I'd love to see that._ "

"W-well, frankly, you won't," Arthur replied, slightly flustered, "I'm right across the pond, I'm afraid."

 _Add a footballer with Beckham on the Jet Ski._  Arthur wrote, his writing looping elegantly at the margin, stark red against the white of the paper.

" _Fucking pond and its fucking big space,_ " Alfred said, " _Miss you so much._ "

"G-git, we talked last night." Arthur stuttered, his blush intensifying, "Wasn't that enough?"

" _Never, babe_." Alfred laughed. " _Oh, shit!_ "

A loud thump was heard on the other side, and Arthur's smile fell, a worried look crossing his face.

"What's wrong, love?" Arthur asked, looking worriedly at his phone, frown crossing his face.

" _I'm okay, I'm okay!_ " Alfred called, and the sound of thumping continued on the other side. The country's tone sounded like he was jumping up and down, and Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"Alfred, are you hopping on one leg, love?" he asked, and on the other side, he heard the country let out a squeak (that he was  _sure_  his lover would forever deny he made, "it was a freakin' gasp of alarm that's totally manly and shit, babe, totally not some girly as fuck squeak, swear!") in surpise.

" _Holy shit, do you have an eye on me or something? Or your fairy friends stalking me?_ "

"Don't push it, git. I can hear your fat arse thudding up a storm all the way here." He scoffed, putting the paper away on the pile of finished documents and picked up another one, reading it through.

" _I am totally not fat! I have manly muscles and shit, and everything—fuck!_ " Arthur rolled his eyes. He really needed to have a word with his former colony regarding his language (although, he should really speak for himself, he thought bitterly, thinking back at his days as a delinquent). " _Why are designer pants so fucking hard to get into?_ "

"Because you're a fatty, love,"  _McAvoy is fine as a torchbearer in Glasgow. I don't see why not celebrities shouldn't be included._  He wrote, smiling to himself.

" _Am not a fatty!_ "

"You're  _my_  fatty." Arthur chuckled, "Now go and… oh, I don't know, fix some mess you've probably made. Be good if you're going to meet anyone."

" _Yes, dear_ ," Alfred laughed. " _I love you_."

"I love you too." Arthur smiled, and Alfred hung up. He ended the call on his phone as well, before turning his attention fully back to his work.

* * *

A few weeks later, Agent McTaggert found herself standing next to Alfred inside Tiffany's, awkwardly keeping at his side as she felt the judging stares of the jewellers pointed at her.

"Mr. America, what exactly are we doing here?" she asked, peering at her country oddly as the blonde man walked along the glass cases displaying beautiful jewellery that she perfectly knew was  _way_  beyond what her salary could pay for.

"I'm planning something, see," Alfred winked at her, gesturing her over. She walked up to him. "What do you think about those?"

He was pointing at a pair of rings—they were gold, and dappled with large emeralds, and her eyes widened, almost boggling out of her head.

"M-Mr. America, what the heck…?"

Alfred leaned closer to her, cupping his hand over the side of his mouth to whisper conspiratorially into her ear.

"You see, I'm going to ask England to marry me," he whispered, and her eyes widened.

"Mr. America…" a smile slowly crossed her face, and Alfred grinned at her. "… But, aren't you two married already? Uh, I mean, the Special Relationship?"

"Ah, that's the thing," Alfred chuckled, "I want to marry him as a human, as Alfred F. Jones, to have and to hold till death do us part," he sighed, looking down at the rings. "I'm going to ask him during the opening ceremony of the Olympics this Friday."

"Oh, Mr. America," McTaggert sighed, "That's… that's so sweet."

Alfred blushed, grinning sheepishly. "You gotta help me, though. I'm absolute shit at this kind of stuff, so, yeah…" he ran his hand over the surface of the glass casing. "What do you think? You know, about the rings."

"Well, Mr. Britain's already had his fair share of wealth; I think it's pretty good to go simple." She said. Alfred looked at her, eyebrow raised. "You know, just a simple gold band for the wedding. Why not, right?" she smiled, and Alfred chuckled.

"Girl, I don't even know if he's going to say yes."

"Oh, of  _course_  he's going to say yes," McTaggert giggled, before pulling Alfred to a case that she had stood next to earlier. "See that ring over there?" she pointed down at a singular ring displayed by itself, placed apart from the others. It was a simple silver band that looped like a sideward-eight all around, in the middle of it a small diamond placed at a link.

"… Whoa." Alfred blinked at it. "It looks like the… infinity sign."

"Forever." McTaggert nodded. "Until death do you two part, right?"

Alfred looked at her, and slowly a smile spread across his face.

"You are the best PA-bodyguard ever," he chuckled, before pulling her into a hug.

* * *

Arthur was going  _crazy_.

Weeks and weeks of tumultuous planning were coming down to  _this_ , this singular event happening at 9 o'clock sharp, with the whole world watching, listening, and _judging._

Breathing quickly, he paced and paced around his office in the Buckingham palace, worrying about everything as he held two phones in each of his hands—one was a BlackBerry, his local relations work-phone, and the other was an iPhone, his international relations work-phone. His personal phone lay by itself quietly on the desk in front of him, as the other two (pressed against both his ears each) were buzzing with life as he was getting bombarded with alerts, reports of  _oh my god what do you mean the boat won't start_  and updates of every single little thing that was going on that day.

The pressure was heavy, so very heavy, and Arthur felt angry tears threatening to fall from his face. He hung up both of his phones and he came to a stop at the window, pressing his forehead against it, breathing shakily.

No, he told himself, he would not cry, he would  _not cry_ , not  _ruin_ the happiness that had been buzzing around his children, no, no, no—

A teardrop slid down his face, and suddenly someone burst into his room.

"Artie!"

Arthur turned around, his eyes wide, to see Alfred walking into the room, worry etched onto his face.

"I heard that the clouds were getting pretty dim around London. Are you okay?" he asked, quickly striding across the room and grabbing Arthur's shoulders, turning the country to face him. His eyes widened upon seeing the tear track that ran down Arthur's cheek. "Shit. Here, it's okay," he softly said, pulling the blonde nation into a hug. "It's going to be okay."

"A-Alfred," Arthur choked, "I'm so nervous, so,  _so_ , nervous, I can't do this—I can't," he whined, pulling the taller nation into a hug. "I can't be strong enough to push through, this is just so difficult—"

"Ah, shit." Alfred suddenly said, and Arthur halted, his eyes welling up with tears.

"… Alfred?"

"Looks like I'm going to have to break it to you early," he grinned sheepishly at Arthur, who blinked at him owlishly. "You want backup? I can give it to you, all you have to do is say the right answer."

"… Wh-what are you talking about—oh my  _God_."

Alfred knelt down in front of Arthur, taking out a box from his coat's jacket. He opened it, revealing to Arthur the infinity ring he bought from Tiffany's.

"Arthur Kirkland, will you marry me?"

"O-oh, I," Arthur began to stutter, his cheeks flaring red.

"Not as a country, babe," Alfred chuckled, "I want to marry you as a human. You know, 'til death do us part?"

"Oh, Alfred, yes!" Arthur cried, launching himself into Alfred's arms, laughing happily, throwing his arms around Alfred's neck, pulling him into a tight hug. "Yes, yes, yes!"

Alfred laughed, pulling away to slip the ring onto Arthur's finger, smiling warmly at him as tears threatened to spill from Arthur's eyes.

"H-hey, don't go cryin' on me, babe," Alfred chuckled, wiping them away before they fell. "Wouldn't want to ruin the Olympics, yeah?"

"You shouldn't have asked me such a silly question, then," Arthur replied, but there was no venom in his words, only fondness, happiness, and love.

Alfred laughed. "That's how we do it in America, babe."

"I love you too, git." Arthur smiled, before pulling Alfred into a kiss.

* * *

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we hope you enjoyed the 2012 London Olympic games."

All the countries ran up to Arthur, laughing brightly, but Alfred got to him first before anyone else did, lifting him high up onto his shoulders, earning him bright peals of laughter from the small island nation.

"That was amazing, England!" he heard the countries call out to him, and a wide smile spread across his face, giving him a much more youthful look.

"That's how we do it in England, babe!" Alfred laughed out loud, jumping up and down, bouncing Arthur on his shoulders, making him giggle brightly.

"In England and America, love," Arthur smiled down at Alfred, holding his fiancée's head in his hands and leaning down to plant a kiss on his head. "Just like a collision of worlds."

"Collision of worlds," Alfred repeated, like he was tasting the words. "I kinda like that."

"Indeed." Arthur nodded. "Now, go take me to Her Majesty, I want to show her I've got you under me again after all these years."

"Hey!" Alfred yelled at him, but Arthur only laughed, happier than he had ever been.


End file.
